JAG - Retold (Season 2)
by flaunt
Summary: Take Harm & Mac's Season 2 adventures. Add shipper scenes. Reimagine motivations and back stories. Remove irksome 'false romantic leads'. See me ruin a wonderful franchise. In short, my (insane/ambitious) retelling of JAG.
1. Ep 01: We The People

**JAG - Retold (Season 2)**

**Spoilers:** Skeleton Crew (01x22) onwards. Basically any episode with Catherine Bell in it. But keep in mind that this is definitely gonna skew AU.

**Disclaimer:** I owned the characters. For thirty minutes. Then the police found us. JAG belongs to Donald Bellisario, Belisarius Productions, Paramount Television and CBS.

**Author's Notes:**  
The idea behind this is an exploration (on my part) to see if it is possible to get our (or at least my) favorite couple together before season 10 episode 22, while still maintaining enough story line juice to make it to season 10.

When I started exploring this idea, I had no idea the scope and time commitment this would entail. That I am basically trying to find a way to recreate 227 (more or less) episodes in fanfic form is probably the craziest thing I've ever attempted with words. Not to say I'm not excited by it, just that I hope I don't epic fail this.

I don't know if it'll be any good - and I wish I had more discipline to rewrite entire episodes and shipper it up from top to bottom, but I don't. I can only hope it makes sense to everyone - even if you're not familiar with the stories, don't remember the episodes or actually do and forgive my mistakes anyway. Thank you for reading this, and I hope you enjoy it.

**Special Thanks:**  
Special thanks to all the writers of JAG fanfics here. I've enjoyed all your work tremendously and inspired me to do this. Yes, I've actually read most of the JAG fanfics here and I read almost every new thing that comes up. And yes, I do mean it when I say I enjoy all your work. I think I'm an addict or something.

* * *

**Episode 1: **  
We The People

1700 ZULU  
MAC'S APARTMENT  
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.

It was exactly noon when the pounding at her door started. US Marine Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie, resplendent in her crisp uniform put down her coffee cup and walked to her door, fully expecting the visitor. After all she had been sent home from Marine Barracks Washington, D.C. earlier in the day by her CO... correction, former CO for this very visit. This did not make her a happy camper.

Throwing open her door, Mac was surprised by the number and type of visitor - three dressed like they were working a funeral, if not for the telltale white earpieces they wore. Secret service.

The two men secured the corridor while a woman, not much shorter than Mac's statuesque 5'8" stepped forward.

"Major Sarah MacKenzie?"

"Yes?"

"Please come with us."

Mac was taken aback by the sudden command, but years of Marine Corps service had helped her develop a form of poker face, one which she used to great effect now. "I think there's been a mistake. I've been reassigned to the Judge Advocate General Corps in Falls Church."

"Yes, ma'am, you have."

Mac looked at the woman, a blonde, how very unlike the secret service. It was dark hair, dark suits, dark shades - a deliberate uniformity so they were never outstanding enough to differentiate one from another, never distinctive enough to pick out of a crowd. When it dawned on Mac that these were not secret service agents.

"We're with the State Department, ma'am." the blonde responded deciphering Mac's unasked query from her unguarded expression.

"Are you sure?"

The blonde almost cracked a smile at that, "Yes, ma'am, and time is of the essence. This way, please."

"I don't suppose you care to identify yourself?"

The blonde did, leaving her colleagues nameless, "Agent Andrews, Nancy."

Mac's right eyebrow went up, revealing her skepticism at the probable cover name, but when she wasn't going to get a further explanation, she took a bracing breath and reached for her car keys.

"That will be unnecessary ma'am. We've already secured transportation for you."

Mac silently cursed the cold efficiency of the clandestine services. 'State Department, my ass.' This stunk to high heaven of a certain agency named with initials, and she didn't mean the FBI.

Upon leaving her apartment, the suits guided her down the stairs to the back alley, where an unmarked black sedan waited. Mac stepped in when a stray thought surfaced, 'I hope this isn't a kidnapping.'

When they didn't move to knock her out cold, Mac supposed this was on the up-and-up. Still she didn't relax because it was the shadiest up-and-up she had ever been a part of - and she had served in countries where triad gangs and marauding warlords routinely picked up women in dark unmarked sedans.

"Isn't this pretty excessive for JAG?"

"Yes ma'am, it is."

"Are you at least going to tell me where we're going?"

Nancy, if that was her real name, smiled, somehow unnerving Mac even more with that show of humanity, "1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, ma'am."

It took a lot to surprise Major Sarah MacKenzie. She'd witnessed war zone carnage in Bosnia, she had to overcome a language barrier and local dissatisfaction in Okinawa, Japan. She had even survived Duke Law.

But these things could never prepare her for heading to the most famous address in the country.

"The White House?" Mac asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

Mac took another deep breath. When her CO suddenly pulled her off a double homicide case and told her she had been reassigned to JAG Headquarters, she knew something suspicious was up. And now being whisked to the White House? She was prepared to be thrown for a loop today, but she wasn't prepared to take on a tornado.

oxoxoxo

1800 ZULU  
1600 PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE  
WASHINGTON, D.C.

Lt. Commander Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr. stood proudly before the 42nd President of the United States. The words said by a Navy spokesperson describing his achievement were plain, as in the finest traditions of the Armed Forces, but they couldn't sound any sweeter to his ears.

Harm tried to keep his eyes front and center at the President. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his mom, Patricia Burnett, trying her best not to burst into tears of joy, and a small smile tugged at his lips.

He hadn't expected her to be there. After his father had been shot down over the jungles of Vietnam on Christmas Eve, 1969, Trish had fought to erase any form of military connection - actual, visual or symbolic - from her life. Harm wasn't allowed to wear his uniform when he visited her and she hadn't even come to his Annapolis graduation, a fact that should have hurt, but Harm accepted was just her way.

After all he had suffered by losing his father, he understood that what his mom lost was so much more than just a husband.

The President spoke as he pinned the medal on Harm's chest, "Lt. Commander Rabb, you may single-handedly give lawyers a good name."

"Thank you sir." They shook hands, one attorney to another, before Harm ripped off a perfect salute to his Commander-in-Chief.

The Navy band struck up the first strains of Anchors Aweigh, bringing the official ceremony to an end. Harm descended the steps to hug his mom whose words tripped over her emotions and tears.

"Oh, Harmon, I'm so sorry. I'm messing up your jacket with my mascara."

Harm laughed and held his mother closer. "It's okay mom. It's a dark suit so no one will notice."

"I'm so proud of you, you know that right?" Trish's voice was quiet, trembling with sincerity and hope that he recognized how true her words were.

Harm smiled genuinely at his mother, dispelling her fears. "Yes, mom. But it's always nice to know."

"Harm?"

Hearing him call, Harm turned to the older gentleman with a camera. Harm tried to disguise his aversion, his mouth formed into a thin-lipped smile as he shook the man's offered hand, "Frank."

Frank Burnett was a slight man in his 60s. A VP at Chrysler Motors, Frank was, for lack of a better word - a car salesman. He was his mom's second husband and as much as Frank tried, Harm had never allowed him to be his second father. Harm didn't have the fondest memories of Frank growing up, a feeling Harm was sure was mutual.

The silence stretched out, neither man knowing what to say, one still trying to bridge the gap even after all this time, the other still building walls to keep him out. Perhaps their names were all the communication they needed, and it proved to be all the words they had time to say.

"Ahem. Commander." Harm looked around for the new voice, extremely glad for it. It had come from his commanding officer, a squared away two-star Admiral - A.J. Chegwidden who was standing to one side next to a young but portly Lieutenant - Bud Roberts.

The Admiral spoke with the patience of a saint, even as his foot tapped with the devil's restlessness, "Sorry to cut the time with your family short, but when you're ready."

"Yes sir." Harm responded, knowing it was never wise to keep your boss waiting. Harm turned to his mom. "I'm sorry mom, duty calls. But I'm glad you flew out here for me. I'll call you tonight?"

"But I wanted a picture." Trish pouted, even as her grip tightened around his arm.

She pulled him down to her height for a picture, surprising him with her strength. Even as he looked to his CO for assistance, he didn't fight his mother's grasp and afforded her this luxury. He smiled for the polaroid - one then two, when his mom planted a kiss on his cheek before releasing him for good.

"Take care, Harmon. I lo..." she remembered to hide her true sentiments. Her son was in the company of his peers and she had no intention of embarrassing him on this day. Her words morphed to a more acceptable generic, "Be safe." keeping her words of love for another time.

His mom waved at him even as Frank led her away. Harm waved back and was embarrassed at the display of affection in front of his commanding officer. He came to stand at attention. "Sir."

A.J. smiled. "At ease, Commander. I know when I'm outranked." he nodded, indicating Harm's mother.

Relieved at the Admiral's acceptance, a genuine smile brightened up Harm's face, "Yes sir."

"Walk with me." Harm fell into step beside the Admiral as they left the White House lawn.

oxoxoxo

Mac stood next to the black stretch limo, unsure of what she was doing here. She tried not to be distracted by the sight of the roses that filled the garden, even as the perfect weather made it possibly one of the most beautiful sights she had ever had the benefit of seeing in person.

She heard the voice of her new CO, Admiral A.J. Chegwidden carry over the garden and stepped forward to greet him.

"Afternoon, Admiral."

And then she saw him.

The tall Lt. Commander was handsome, she had to admit that, and a squid - well that was not something she admired quite as much. He looked like a million bucks and his casual walk informed the world he was as good as advertised. 'Judging from the shiny Distinguished Flying Cross on his chest, maybe he was.' Mac couldn't tear her eyes away.

"Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb, Major Sarah MacKenzie." The admiral introduced them and she raised her hand to shake the Lt. Commander's.

"Mac."

And he just stared at her.

oxoxoxo

She was beautiful, Harm couldn't doubt that. Possibly the most beautiful woman in the world. Probably the only woman he could ever love. Because she was. She was Lt. Diane Schonke.

oxoxoxo

Bud Roberts stared at the Marine Major in front of him, and instant recognition filled him, followed by a quick look at Commander Rabb to gauge his reaction. 'Uh-oh.'

Bud could see the warning signs as the Commander's normal facade of confidence and charm crumbled. He couldn't blame the senior officer - it was a ghost come back to life.

Bud remembered Lt. Schonke fondly. They had served on the Seahawk together. She was beautiful, but smart too, and a lot of fun since she routinely traded wisecracks with him whenever the attention from the press got too much for her.

And there was always too much press. Bombarded with daily requests for interviews and photo spreads - including several from Playboy, Diane was everything the mainstream media loved - a young, single and very attractive woman serving on an actual warship, and evident to anyone who knew her - deeply in love...

Bud's eyes went to the Commander again. He'd heard the rumors, even snuck unauthorized peeks at the investigation notes, but now with the Commander's reaction to the Marine Major... he knew for sure.

Harmon Rabb Jr. had been in love with Diane Schonke as much as Diane had been with Harm.

oxoxoxo

An image of Diane had burned itself in Harm's memory. She was dressed in her Navy uniform as she left that night for deployment on the Seahawk. It was six months ago and he remembered everything, he replayed it in his mind enough to remember everything - how she had looked back, smiled and laughed at one of his lame jokes before stepping out of his life forever.

His eyes devoured every detail that was Sarah MacKenzie. Her hair was a tad longer, but there was no mistaking that beautiful face. She was Diane in every way - those soulful brown eyes, that cute nose, those sweet lips. He leaned in to taste them...

Mac saw the flash of desire in the handsome Commander's blue-gray eyes before he caught himself. Instead his hand shot out to shake hers before she could retract it. "Harm." he replied.

"You two know each other?" asked the admiral at the awkward exchange.

"No, sir."

"Yes, sir," said both Mac and Harm respectively, at the same time.

It was a beat before Harm realized his words. "Oh, I'm sorry, Major. Of course I don't know you." He gave Mac the best smile he could muster for now, "I just had a moment of déjá vu."

With a wary grin of her own Mac offered, "Must be the uniform."

"No, actually, she was in the Navy," Harm answered truthfully and Mac felt the awkwardness return. In a moment of unguarded clarity, his eyes betrayed a world of pain to her.

'Whoever this Navy lookalike was, she must have done a real number on the Commander.' Mac thought.

The Admiral hadn't noticed it until Harm's comment. 'Good God.' he gasped internally, he had never even thought of the Major as a dead-ringer for the Lt. Commander's dead Naval Academy girlfriend. But now that he had seen the resemblance, it was almost impossible not to.

He hoped that Harm wouldn't be stupid enough to confuse the Marine Major with Lieutenant Schonke just because they looked so much alike and warned, "Don't get too familiar, you two work together."

But before they let go of each other's hand, A.J. saw the spark between the Marine Major and Navy Commander. 'Great.' Now he was sure he would have to send a chaperone with them everywhere.

oxoxoxo

1831 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

The bullpen stood at attention as they entered, in deference to the Admiral's rank and the fact that he was everyone's boss. "As you were." he barked and was immediately obeyed. JAG ops returned to its usual state of paradox, a controlled chaos between two warring factions - military order versus paperwork chaos.

The Admiral noticed that most of his staff had their attention glued to the numerous TV screens overhead - the military news feeds that ran 24 hours a day but only had about 4 hours worth of programming.

The watching throng were tuned in to the ZNN report of 'a shipment of nuclear warheads' that had been stolen from a convoy in Arizona. A.J. could only hope for the sake of humanity (and the state of Arizona) that the nuclear warheads were indeed a fancy piece of fiction cooked up by someone's sick mind.

When A.J. spotted the man standing in a three piece suit and a beige overcoat, he knew which sick mind that was.

It didn't help that A.J. had seen the face of this particular son-of-a-bitch once before, and that it was one too many times already.

"I hope that news report is not true, Mr. Webb." A.J. said as he breezed past the weasel faced man, whose pinched expression made him out to be the kind of man who was born with every social advantage except a sense of humor.

He fell into step beside the Admiral as they made their way to his office, "It's a cover, Admiral, one that I fed to ZNN. I'm just glad they bought it."

Harm wasn't as impressed with the fussy man's work, "I'm sure news of stolen nuclear warheads will make everyone sleep easier tonight."

Webb shot a castigating glance at the Lt. Commander. He didn't have to explain his methods to a junior officer who didn't understand the role of media and politics in the military. Sun Tzu had preached to win a battle it was best to control the high ground, and there was no higher ground in America than the media.

Entering his office, A.J. went straight to his desk while ordering them to, "Introduce yourselves."

Clay went first, as he always did. "Clayton Webb. I'm the Special Assistant to the Undersecretary of State."

Harm eyed the 'State Department' agent, saw how the three-piece suit Webb wore had probably cost more than Harm's monthly mortgage.

"Rabb," Harm said, offering his hand to the 'I'm not CIA' CIA agent. "So the state lost the Declaration of Independence."

"We did not lose it, we had it stolen, by Marines." Clayton knew of the reputation of Harmon Rabb Jr. and decided that there was enough there to not like him. He would have preferred to stand next to the pretty Marine Major, but his accusation made it certain he would find no friend in her either.

"MacKenzie. Assuming they were Marines." Mac took the implication of Marines personally. Webb was talking about them without any respect. She still shook his hand, personal feelings were no excuse for rudeness.

"Roberts," Bud also introduced himself, using his deepest voice, but found his handshake ignored and Webb's personal feelings of entitlement to excuse the rudeness.

Instead Webb continued his briefing, "The hijackers were in a Marine Huey, wore Marine camo and used Marine Recon tactics. If they are not Marines, they used to be. And as you people in the Corps like to say: There is no such a thing as an ex-Marine."

"Or ex-CIA." Mac replied, her voice ice cold and a face hard as stone. 'Good God, she may be tougher than Harm.' A.J. thought. 'Heck, she might even be tougher than me.'

"We believe they were part of a splinter group who call themselves the Defenders."

Webb saw her eyes widen briefly and her back stiffen. It was so slight that he'd only caught it because he was looking for it.

Just at that moment, Webb's phone rang. He heard the few panicked sentences from his assistant before biting out furious monosyllables, "What? Where?"

Webb tamped down on what would have been the most inappropriate curse he'd ever uttered just in time. Instead, he reached for the TV remote and turned the TV to the channel his assistant had given.

When the small TV set in Admiral Chegwidden's office showed Colonel Matthew O'Hara standing before the Declaration of Independence, Mac couldn't believe it. It was really him.

Colonel O'Hara was a Marine legend, lauded and beloved by many who ever put on the olive green uniform. As he delivered his manifesto for the government to change its ways, she was ideologically torn. The lawyer in her knew what he had done was wrong. The Marine in her knew what he had done was exactly what the founding fathers would have done.

'Revolution' was a dirty word in Congress and unfortunately for the people they were supposed to represent, a far more frightening prospect than the word 'tyranny'.

Mac listened to the weasel shaped CIA agent continue to castigate the Marine Corps and Colonel O'Hara. As if the weasel who worked for the 'Undersecretary of State' knew what honor, honesty or patriotism was. Clayton Webb's alliances changed as often as his pliable politics.

Clayton Webb looked at the Marine Major standing next to Rabb. She was striking, and if he squinted hard enough, would even consider her gorgeous. Despite her stony exterior, her face revealed plenty to him for she had no problems revealing how little she thought of him. There was no smile, not even the hint of civility. No matter, she wasn't here to be civil. She had a role to play and her being pretty was unimportant. For now.

Clay looked up at the tall Commander beside her and silently cursed the fact that he had to. Normally he would have positioned himself far enough away to make it seem they were seeing eye to eye. It was a useful political tactic, building false rapport as quickly as you could stab them in the back.

But with the Commander being 6'4", Clay would have had to stand outside the door just to achieve that vantage point. Or get on the Admiral's desk, which unless he didn't want to keep both his legs attached, Clay knew wasn't an option.

Still, he'd put them all in position, wound up their little clockwork mechanisms and knew as military personnel they would predictably dance to his tune quite nicely. Everything was going according to plan... except for one thing.

Colonel O'Hara was never supposed to get his damn hands on the Declaration of Independence!

oxoxoxo

NEXT DAY  
0030 ZULU  
SOMEWHERE NORTH OF YUMA

After throwing a little misdirection, Mac thought she had rid herself of the troublesome Clayton Webb of State, the naive Lt. j.g. Bud Roberts and crucially, the indescribable Lt. Cmdr. Harmon Rabb Jr. That was until she saw the black FBI helicopter chase her down and ordered her to stop.

Mac gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as the black FBI helicopter landed on the highway in front of her. The chopper door opened and out hopped the man she had so desperately needed to ditch.

Reminding herself to think of an excuse she feigned concern when he approached the car.

"What's up?"

Harm leaned in close to the open window, "You're headed the wrong way, the base is south. You wanna tell me what you're up to?"

"I must have gotten turned around." Mac hoped he was misogynistic enough to buy 'Female Driver Syndrome'.

No luck. "You know where Colonel O'Hara has gone to ground, don't you?"

She protested but he cut her off. "Damn it, Major, enough. I'm not a fool. Who is he to you?"

Mac hated the fact she didn't have the ability to lie to him further. She was aware that he could report her and aware that he could alert everyone to her knowledge of her uncle's position with a single phone call. Still she could have lied, but her resolve crumbled.

"Colonel O'Hara's... my uncle."

That was not the answer Harm expected to hear and his face made no attempt to hide that fact.

oxoxoxo

"Hey, there's a bed back here." Harm smiled as he checked out the old pickup he and Mac had rented.

"So?" she replied, without a trace of her usual calm. At Mac's stern look of disapproval, his smile faded. "Just saying it'll make our cover more convincing."

Mac wished he didn't use that smile so much. Not that she was becoming inured to it, but because she was sure that he didn't know what he was doing to her with it. It pissed her off that the man was so casual with that megawatt smile. It really pissed her off that he did it almost unthinkingly.

What pissed her off most was that... it had made her cave so easily. She could hear the demons of her past spit out their vitriol at her weakness for his easy smiles and his devastatingly good looks. And damn it, his smiles still gave her chills. She felt like a fool for even being remotely attracted to this damn man.

He had gotten her to somehow agree to this, used blackmail and trickery to force her to take him to Uncle Matt.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, forming the soundtrack to her ever darkening mood.

While she knew at some level Harm had done what he'd done to try and help her resolve the situation, he didn't know her and she didn't know him and most of all, because he could resort to lies and tricks so easily, she knew she couldn't trust him.

Just like all the other men in her life.

A twangy country song blared over the radio. Tuning it to any other channel was impossible as the tuning dial was stuck to whatever frequency it was on. Obviously it wouldn't be a problem for the original owner of the truck. For Harm, it sounded like the apocalypse.

The rain finally made good on its threat as fat drops fell hard and fast against the wind shield. Harm looked sideways at his new partner and saw how beautiful she was framed in the low light. His eyes drifted over the floral dress she had changed into back in the gas station. He admired how her skin radiated, how her lips curled naturally upwards when she wasn't concentrating on scowling, how her breasts rose with every breath.

She'd been silent of late, very silent. Of course, in the short time he'd known Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie, she barely said anything to him at all. She wasn't like Diane, who talked openly, shared her emotions so freely, kissed him so passionately...

"Mind telling me where we're going?" Harm asked.

"North."

"Figured that much out for myself."

"I'm taking you with me, isn't that good enough?"

"Not if you try and lose me first chance you get."

She turned to look at him and try as she might she couldn't stay mad at him. Damn it! And he knew it too. Double damn! She returned her attention to the wet roads ahead, remembering to breathe, and remembering not to be affected by the smell of his aftershave. Or at least be less attracted to it.

"Colonel must be one hell of an uncle. He raise you or something?"

"Or something."

"I'm just trying to understand why a Marine officer would lay it all on the line."

"He's a man with strong personal convictions."

"I was talking about you, Major."

Mac made the mistake of looking at him. He gave her the smile she craved so much. The one that annoyed her. The one that she liked. The one that one day she was going to wipe off his face. Unless he stopped sharing it with the world at large.

"That's a very nice smile, and I'm sure most of the time it gets you what you want. But I don't know you, Commander, so if you don't mind, I'll keep my personal reasons to myself."

His smile faded, his mind instantly a lifetime and a thousand memories in the past.

"I keep forgetting I don't know you."

"Déjá vu again?"

"Only whenever I see your face. Or hear you talk. I wouldn't know about your smile, I haven't seen one yet."

"There's not much to smile about."

"I guess not."

She glanced at him and for once Mac saw the defeated slump in his shoulders. Was it possible that instead of being a heartbreaker, Harmon Rabb was himself a victim of a broken heart?

"Sounds like I have a twin out there."

He didn't want to remember her that way. But he did. The blood on her shirt...

"Not anymore."

He said it with such sadness that Mac was caught off guard. Sensing his pain, it was obvious that death had touched much of Harmon Rabb's life and Mac felt the ice around her heart thaw a little more.

She thought of Eddie. Eddie Vogelsong had been her closest friend during the drunken haze that was high school. He had been her drinking buddy, her confidante, her protector, but not her boyfriend or lover. Not because she didn't want him, but because he didn't want her. She denied it when he didn't return her kisses, but she knew. And if she didn't, he revealed why to ease the pain of his rejection. She loved him, the first man she dared to, even if their love would never be romantic.

His death had been the lowest point in her life, but it had also been the catalyst for her to face up to her stupidity and allowed Uncle Matt to rebuild her into something more. Someone stronger. Someone better.

Looking at Harm's haunted expression, Mac knew that whomever he was thinking of was someone special. A first love, like Eddie.

She saw Harm keep his eyes focussed straight ahead, remembering something that she would never be a part of. Perhaps it was better that way. If looking at her caused him this much pain, why would he ever let her into his life?

It's not like they had a future together anyway. This one case and she was sure she was gone, just another distant memory in the glorious career that would be Harmon Rabb's.

She hoped one day he would find closure and peace. If nothing else, he was too damn damaged to not deserve peace.

oxoxoxo

TWO DAYS LATER  
1310 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Admiral A.J. Chegwidden leaned back in his chair as he took in the two lawyers that were undoubtedly on the next cover of the Navy Times. Well, one of them - the one with the Distinguished Flying Cross on his chest was already a shoo-in. Now he'd just have to share the cover with the beautiful Marine by his side.

Harm and Mac were seated in the Admiral's office, a day after their successful recovery of the Declaration of Independence from the Defenders, a splinter cell group led by Mac's uncle - Colonel Matthew O'Hara.

As Mac recounted most of the story of the dramatic events in Red Rock Mesa, it was left to Harm to fill in on Mac's various brave actions in the ensuing action - something that the Admiral had never seen the former fighter jock do with such eagerness or ease.

Even though O'Hara may have been the founder and leader of the group, some of the Defenders decided that while the ideological battle against Washington was good, the monetary benefit of ransom was much better, and had turned on the highly decorated Marine Colonel.

In the ensuing fight onboard a helicopter, one of the rogue Marines plummeted to his death. And if the pretty Marine seated in one of the chairs hadn't defeated the other rogue Marine onboard, the Navy Lt. Commander seated in the other chair would definitely have met his end too.

Then there was the part where the Major had taken the Commander at gun point...

"You pulled a gun on the Commander?" the Admiral A.J. Chegwidden turned to Mac.

"Sir, I was..." Mac tried to explain.

The Admiral laughed, cutting her off, "Major, I like your style."

"Sir?" Harm's eyes were as big as saucers.

"Oh, don't worry Commander. It's not like she shot you." before he added quietly, "We can't be that lucky."

"Sir?" Harm asked again, this time unsure if he had heard right. Mac's low chuckle confirmed that he had.

Chegwidden turned back to the pretty Marine. "Major, I've talked to your former CO. Now I know you're interested in returning to your double homicide investigation, is that correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Personally, I think it's a step backwards Major, career wise. But all I can offer you here at JAG is an office and a spot on Colonel O'Hara's defense team."

"You're allowing me to defend uncle... the Colonel?"

"You'll be second chair to Commander Rabb though, if you still want..."

"I'll take it sir."

A.J. smiled, "Very good, Major. I'll process the paperwork to make your reassignment permanent and you are welcome to choose your office. Dismissed."

"Aye, sir." both Harm & Mac responded as they rose, saluted and snapped around to exit.

On their way out, Harm leaned in to Mac and whispered, "How about a little celebration, partner?"

"Celebration?"

"My treat. Until your first JAG paycheck, then it's yours."

"Doesn't a real gentleman always pick up the check, Harm?"

"I wouldn't know, Mac. I've never dated gentlemen." Harm teased, making Mac's pulse race as his warm breath tickled her ear.

"Your treat right? Anything I want?"

"Anything you want. Within 50 bucks."

Mac smiled. She had definite ideas within 50 bucks. She had worked up quite the appetite over the last few days, and looking up at the Commander, knew just the perfect place to fill it.

oxoxoxo

Harm couldn't believe what he was witnessing. She was a fantasy wrapped in a dream. She might even be his fantasy, even in her green Marine uniform.

But what she was putting into her mouth was the biggest most disgusting burger he had ever laid eyes on. Thick with melted cheese between slabs of beef, topped off with crispy bacon drowning in mayo and ketchup, in between the sorriest excuse of lettuce, fused together inside a huge bun - Harm could feel himself getting a cardiac arrest just by looking at it.

And she topped it off with a chocolate shake. With monster fries on the side. And a second burger on its way! And she still had the figure of a pin-up model!

Harm picked at her fries, only for her to slap his fingers away.

"If you wanted something, sailor, you should have gotten your own."

"Well, considering I'm feeding you... Mac, I can't stand to see you eat this. Let me take you to a nice restaurant."

"This is a nice restaurant, Harm."

"It's a Beltway Burger."

"That doesn't mean it's not nice. Look, there's everything you need here. Beef, cheese, buns, lettuce. Protein, dairy, carbs, vegetables. It's a balanced diet."

"Balanced by whom? Satan? Look at this, everything is either burnt or on its way there."

"You said I could get anything I want."

"I didn't think you'd want this."

"Oh, and what does Mr. Nutrition here think I wanted?"

"Well, something not so... dead."

"What do you mean not so dead? Did you think I'd eat a live chicken?"

"No! You know, I thought vegetables, fresh fruit..."

"A vegan? You thought I was a vegan? Harm, I don't think you'd find a vegetarian Marine anywhere in the world."

At Harm's silence, Mac put it together. "You did think I was a vegan, because you're one, aren't you?"

"No." Harm answered defensively, "I eat fish, and chicken. Sometimes. Just no red meat."

"Well too bad for you, veggie boy. You've got a red meat loving partner in your life now."

"Veggie boy?" He asked amused, and after fighting it for a futile second, a smile broke across his face.

"If the shoe fits." She waved a fry at him before popping it in her mouth. "Besides, this is so much better than tofu."

"Tofu's not so bad. I'll prove it to you next time."

"Next time? What makes you think there's gonna be a next time?"

"I'm offering free food."

"Free tofu. That's not food."

"Are you turning me down?"

Mac paused, "No. But just where do we find this miraculously tasty veggie meal?"

"I'll cook."

"Where? I've seen your apartment, remember?" And she had. There was no power, no furniture, he didn't even have floors.

"How about your place?"

"Ah." Mac didn't expect that. "My apartment."

"I've shown you mine, now show me yours."

Mac tried not to blush, but she did. She thanked God that her burger was big enough to hide most of her face. Oh, once upon a time she might have been tempted to show him hers, but since they were working together now, that was no longer an option. Damn.

* * *

**Next Episode:** Jinx (2x03)

**AN:** I've not rewritten/added to episode 2x02 Secrets - since I was quite indifferent about the episode. For this series, I consider it canon - it happened, but I'm not planning on referencing it from this point out. So to all Corporal Magida fans out there, I apologize in advance.


	2. Ep 02: Jinx

**AN: **First of all, I wanna thank everyone who sent me kind words of encouragement for the first 'Episode'. I too hope I can sustain this and not screw it up.

**Special Note:**  
I wanna shout out to the authors whose work spurred me on the most. First, PeterHalsey's 'JAG - Before The Rose Garden' for probably being the inspiration for my own take of JAG adventures. Thank you.

* * *

**Episode 2:**  
Jinx

1400 ZULU  
HIGH ABOVE LEESBURG

Lieutenant j.g. Bud Roberts let out an uproarious yell as he felt the yellow Stearman spiral into another complicated roll. He had no idea that Lt. Cmdr. Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr. owned this amazing piece of retro technology all this time.

He had never understood the joys of aviation fully - 'was flying at Mach 2+ really all it was cut out to be?', but if it was anything like what they were experiencing now, Bud began to appreciate why aviators loved being crazy when they were up in the air, and were as morose as they were when they were grounded.

To Bud, it was as if he was in the best computer game ever, times a thousand. Another roar of enjoyment ripped from his lips.

"Enjoying yourself, Bud?"

Bud heard Harm's voice come over the headset and fumbled for his radio link. "Yes sir."

"It's Harm when we're not in uniform."

"Yes sir."

Harm smiled at the younger man's unbridled happiness. He didn't have the heart to tell the young lieutenant that he wasn't supposed to be the passenger today. Harm had hoped to impress someone entirely different.

But she was busy with her new job at JAG and Bud had overheard his invitation to the Marine Major. To spare any embarrassment or potential scandal, Harm had opened up the invitation to Bud. The excitement on the young lieutenant's face made it clear that Harm had to make it happen sooner than later... in the hopes that the next time he went up, it would be with the striking brunette Harm had originally planned this for.

_RING RING_

_RING RING_

Harm heard the incessant cry of a cellphone and saw Bud pull his out from a pocket. Harm was glad that the Stearman came from a time before avionics even existed, or this hobby flight might have ended as an ugly smear across the countryside. He leveled out the biplane so that the young lieutenant could listen better to whoever was on the phone.

"Yes ma'am. Yes, I'll tell the Commander, ma'am. See you soon ma'am."

When the young lieutenant hung up, Harm asked, "What is it Bud?"

"That was Major MacKenzie, sir. We have a case. An air crash, sir."

Harm stiffened at that and quickly turned his plane back to the air field.

oxoxoxo

On the ground, Harm rushed through his post flight check on the bright yellow Stearman. He spotted a familiar old mechanic in the nearby hangar and waved him over.

"Joe," Harm greeted the old man who, after Harm, was probably the foremost expert on this particular aircraft. "I've been called in to work. I wish I could, but could you complete her post-flight instead?"

"Sure thing, Harm. Any problems up there?"

"Nope, handles like a charm. As always."

Joe looked past Harm and saw Bud exit from the bathroom, already in his khaki uniform. "Not your usual type of passenger."

"Long story."

Joe laughed, "I'm sure. Maybe next time you'll get to bring her instead."

Harm flashed his winning smile at the thought and the old man's encouragement. Harm ran to the pilots' room and quickly changed into his own uniform. When he raced out, he saw Bud admiring the Stearman that was probably Harm's most precious possession. Bud fell in step with Harm as they made their way back to his car.

"It's a beautiful plane, sir."

"Yeah, she is."

"She?"

"It's a pilot thing. We name them after someone we love."

"Oh. What's her name, sir?"

"Sarah."

"Like Major MacKenzie, sir?"

Harm paused at that, surprised by the coincidence. "Yeah. But it's not named for her."

"Oh." Bud said as he got in Harm's red Corvette and strapped in.

It was several minutes before Bud dared to ask the question that was bothering him.

"Sir, do you think Major MacKenzie looks... familiar?"

Harm gripped the steering wheel of his car a little tighter. He had forgotten that Bud knew the woman she uncannily resembled, had served with her temporarily, and had discovered her dead body. Unprepared to face it, he lied. "No."

"You don't, sir?"

A spark ignited the wellspring of frustrated rage within him. It was small, but it was potent. His voice took on a diamond hard edge - sharp enough to cut, sharp enough to reopen wounds he had strove to keep buried. "You served with her on the Seahawk, didn't you?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Major MacKenzie? No sir, she wasn't on the Seahawk."

"Not the Major." Harm turned to the chubby lieutenant in the bucket seat beside him, his voice low and dangerous, "Her."

Bud noticed the edge in the Commander's voice, "Lieutenant Schonke, sir?"

"Yes."

The grudging acknowledgment was not lost on Bud. The fact that his superior didn't mention the dead lieutenant by name was not lost on him either. "I'm sorry for your loss, sir."

"Yeah." Harm answered, unsure if he could trust himself to say anything more without reliving Diane's death.

The subject of Lt. Diane Schonke was still a sore point with him. Harm hadn't revealed it to anyone but most nights he sat in his dark unfinished apartment, and instead of installing the lights he needed, picked up his guitar and mooned over pictures of him and Diane together. He had always known she was beautiful, but he never knew just how beautiful she truly was until she was taken from him.

Bud could see the tensing of the Commander's jaw. Though Diane had never revealed who she loved directly to anyone, all he ever heard from her was about the remarkable Harmon Rabb Jr.

It helped that Bud had assisted Harm in a previous investigation. After witnessing how he landed a Tomcat on a carrier, at night, from the RIO seat, saving himself and the injured pilot Captain Tom Boone, Bud knew that Diane hadn't exaggerated. Much.

"I miss her too, sir."

Harm smiled at that, perhaps because suddenly he wasn't alone in his hurt, "She had a way about her, Bud. Her smile lit up the room, and she made it seem like you were the only one meant to receive it."

"In your case, sir, I think it was."

A calming relief filled Harm, extinguishing the burning sensation he felt deep in his chest. Remembering how she was when she was alive eased his pain and made his heart feel lighter.

Until Bud's next question.

"Does the Major know she looks like Diane?"

The question sliced like a sword. He tensed up tighter than before and bit out his response, "No."

"Just that I sometimes see you stare at her -"

"That's enough, lieutenant."

"I'm sorry, sir."

Shaking his emotions clear, Harm realized he was driving the car a little harder than it was wise to on these icy roads. He slowed down.

"Bud, don't... don't tell the Major."

"Yes sir."

"I mean it."

"Me too sir." Bud hoped the Commander believed him, for he truly did mean to keep his promise.

"Bud."

"Yes sir?"

Harm hoped his memories of Diane would fade by the time he got back to JAG HQ. Before he lost himself and did something stupid with her twin in the Marine uniform.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome sir."

oxoxoxo

NEXT DAY  
1716 ZULU  
NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER  
SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

"Tess would have been the first female member of the Blue Angels. And I got her killed."

Harm looked at the pitiful shell of a man lying in the hospital bed. This was Lt. Peter Ayers, Lt. Tess McKee's RIO on the ill-fated flight that cost her her life. Not that Harm didn't understand his survivor's guilt, but it was never a pretty thing to witness a grown man's slow unraveling.

Compounding Ayers' mental distress was how the pilot had died saving his six and he didn't even have the decency to have scars that would last beyond his hospital stay. Harm recognized all the thoughts that ran through the Lieutenant's head, he'd been there before - He should have died. He should have suffered. He should be permanently disabled. He should not be okay.

As Harm tried to find the words to proceed, Mac asked the obvious question while wondering why her partner was so quiet. "How did you get her killed?"

"She flew with me. I'm telling you, it's the jinx."

Over the next hour Lieutenant Ayers filled them in on 'The Jinx'. How after Tess, he was the last surviving member of eight in the Howler squad. The other seven had all died in a series of freak crashes and accidents.

Ayers went on to explain how they had accidentally destroyed a mosque in the Gulf War, and now karma or Allah was striking back. They all had to pay, and by God, how they were going to pay.

oxoxoxo

Back at Miramar, Mac closed the door of the temporary office space they were assigned. Mac looked at her two male colleagues, particularly at her handsome JAG partner who stood apart, quieter than she had ever known him to be.

"He seems pretty convinced he's a jinx." Mac said quietly to fill the air.

"He sounds pretty convincing, ma'am." Bud agreed.

But Harm just stood there in silence, hands on his hips in an aggressive posture and Mac knew something was wrong. Mac prompted him, "Harm?"

He looked up at her, suppressing a surprising rage though his voice betrayed he wasn't entirely successful. "Mac, as much as I hate to admit it, accidents happen all the time. These aren't toy planes."

"Still, seven of eight Howlers dead? That's a pretty big stat to brush off as coincidence."

"What are you implying, Mac?" he asked, his voice was calm but it lacked its usual charm, it's usual sparkle that was now similarly absent from his eyes. This was Harmon Rabb Jr. close to his worst.

"Bud, could you get us some coffee?" Mac asked, not taking her eyes off her partner.

Bud looked up from the maintenance file he was leafing through, "Oh, yes ma'am. What would you like ma'am?"

"Surprise me."

"Yes ma'am. And you Commander?"

"Just go, Bud." Mac said, still not taking her eyes off Harm who averted his gaze to fall on the personnel files. He shuffled through them without really reading any.

When Bud had left the room, Mac asked her partner, "Harm, what's wrong?"

Harm felt the fight in him desert for a moment. "Luke Pendry."

"Who?"

"He was one of the Howler pilots killed last year." He pushed Luke's file towards her. "He was testing a new guidance system when it malfunctioned. And made him crash."

Mac sensed there was more and gave him space to reveal it. He didn't disappoint. "We were at the Academy together, went to flight school together. He was my roommate. And one of my best friends."

Mac's breath caught in her throat. Her mouth hung open as it tried to formulate a response. If she had known, if anyone had known how close he was to this case...

Harm added, "He has a kid, a son. Don't remember how old he is, but..."

Mac had read enough in Harm's personnel file to know that this was not just about the crashes, or his friend. She waited for him to continue.

But he didn't, his icy cool exterior returned and masked the rest of his emotions. "Lt. Ayers has no idea what happened, and what he's telling us is pure fiction."

"Have you considered the possibility he's right?"

"Not you too, Mac."

"No, show me evidence Harm. On one side we have the astronomical odds of chance."

"That's circumstantial at best."

"Three instances is circumstantial. Seven? That's a pattern. Why are these accidents happening only to the Howlers, Harm?"

"Are you talking sabotage?"

"It fits."

"There's no evidence of it, Mac. The planes are clean. The crew is clean."

"Then what else, Harm? What else is there?"

"It's not a jinx."

"Why not?"

When he didn't respond, she closed in, getting in his face, "Why not Harm? Why couldn't it be a jinx?"

"Because Luke died serving his country. It was an accident. He didn't leave a widow and a son behind because of some goddamn curse!"

Mac didn't back away. His icy rage had turned into an inferno and it made his eyes spark with fire. She'd never seen this before. She had seen the pain, that was almost familiar, but not the hot coals of rage threatening to turn everything - including his career - to ash.

"Harm, you're too close to this case."

"Are you kicking me off?"

"No, but you're not objective. Your job is to investigate -"

"Don't tell me what my job is, Mac. I know my damn job!"

"Then do it!"

"Fine!" He had to leave. He had to leave before he did something he regretted. He moved past her to the door and threw it open.

"Harm, wait!" she called out after him but he was way past listening to her.

oxoxoxo

1913 ZULU  
NAVY HOUSING  
SAN DIEGO

He hadn't planned on coming here, but obviously his subconscious had taken over sometime after he left Miramar. He pulled the car up to the curb near a familiar house.

Out in front of it, a young boy played roller hockey by himself. His arm was in a cast and was probably why he wasn't at the game with his team and was stuck practicing at home instead.

One look at the boy's young visage and there was no mistaking it, this was Lucas Pendry's kid.

"Hi Josh."

"Harm!" The young boy rushed over and hugged the tall JAG lawyer, before grilling him about everything and anything Navy and flying. The boy even consented to showing off some of his hockey moves - which went a long way explaining why one arm was already in a cast.

Ruffling the 9-year-old's hair, Harm asked, "Where's your mom?"

It was a question that immediately stilled the excited youth. "In the house."

"Mind if I go in and talk with her?"

Josh shrugged, immediately disinterested in the matter as he returned to his hockey one-on-none drill. Harm would recognize that shrug anywhere. Josh cared for his mom, but couldn't stand her right now. It was the same shrug Harm had when he was Josh's age.

oxoxoxo

The house was neat, organized and dreary. Harm noticed the bare walls immediately - picture hooks, but no pictures.

"Annie?" Harm called out to the emptiness and saw her poke her head out of the kitchen.

"Harm?" Annie Pendry pulled off the old apron and quickly moved to embrace him. She hugged him strongly, if briefly. She smiled but Harm noticed that the past year hadn't been kind to her. Worry lines pulled at her face and her auburn hair drooped limply. A large part of her beauty had paled.

"How are you? What are you doing here?" Annie asked as she pushed him into one of the ugly chairs that decorated the living room.

"I just... came to visit you. And Josh."

"So, you flew all the way out here to check on us?" Annie asked skeptically, even as she nervously smoothed out the fabric of her clothes to make herself more presentable.

"Not exactly." Harm admitted as he smiled ruefully.

"Oh, where are my manners, what would you like to drink?"

"Nothing, Annie. I just..."

She noticed his demeanor, his sadness. "What is it, Harm?"

"I'm investigating Tess McKee's crash."

He saw the horror swell in her eyes. No, not horror. Memories. Even a year after Luke's fatal crash she hadn't been able to forget. Harm reached out a hand to take hers.

"Annie, I'm not here to ask questions. I just really needed to see you."

She pulled her fingers away from his, knuckling them on her thighs. Sensing her rejection Harm looked away, looked up at the bare walls. "I see you've taken down all the pictures."

Still she said nothing.

"How does Josh feel about it?"

"What would you know about Josh's feelings?!" Annie's anger flashed in an instant, a mother who would do anything for her son.

"Luke was his father."

"You don't think I know that?! You don't know how every time I see him, I see his father. You don't know how every time one of those damn jets flies by the house I catch him looking up, dreaming of being a pilot!"

Tears welled up but she held them in check by sheer force of will.

"Locking up pictures of his father isn't going to change who he wants to be."

"He's nine. Right now he imagines he's Wayne Gretzky!"

"He won't be nine forever. One day he'll be driven to obsession to know who his father was, and why his father was who he was."

"He's not you, Harm. He knows what happened to his father!"

That opened up a deep wound and Annie's horrified gasp proved she knew it. So did her quick apology, "I'm so sorry, Harm."

"It's okay." Harm lied.

Her voice came as almost a whisper, "I'm moving to Baltimore. There's a position there..."

"Is that what you want?"

"I... I need to."

Harm understood. He didn't have to agree with it, but he understood.

"It's hard, Harm. Here... this was his life. He was my life."

"You're not alone, Annie. And Baltimore's not that far from D.C."

"No, Harm, I need to do this. Alone. At least for a while."

"And Josh?"

"I'm doing it for him too."

Harm knew those words. His mom had used them twenty five years ago, when she decided to sell their house and move. He remembered how he begged her, fought her, even ran away from home to change her mind.

'If we move, how will dad find us?'

It wasn't a question she could answer, so she didn't. Not when he returned home a few hours later. Not even when he apologized for running away. Not even when he did everything he could to make her stop crying.

So Harm gave up asking his mother and realized he would have to find his own answers.

Harm looked at Annie and saw his youth replayed, just with a different set of characters. Her nerves were frayed but he had to warn her, "Annie, Josh might not understand."

"He will."

"Will he?"

Harm knew it was an unfair question, but he knew that Annie doubted her own words. She finally broke, tears falling far too fast and far too easily. "I'm a terrible mother."

"You're not, Annie. You're just dealing with a lot right now." Harm sat down beside her on the couch and held her as she cried. It was a long time before he felt her tears abate.

When she was cried out, Harm continued holding her. She sniffled, but the first tugs of a smile returned as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Thanks, Harm. Guess I really needed that."

Harm smiled, shy at witnessing her weakness, shy that she let him see it. Annie stood up and moved to look out the window. Satisfied that Josh was still playing safely outside, she turned back to Harm. When a good memory came to the fore.

"Oh, how's Diane?"

His eyes widened.

oxoxoxo

As he drove back to Miramar, Harm replayed the conversation with Annie. Which led him to a replay of the night they had first met.

It was a rainy night when a young Luke Pendry and Harmon Rabb Jr. stumbled out of the diner on their way back to Annapolis. They had another 15 minutes before curfew and well, the night was still young.

When they spotted Annie. Her luscious auburn hair was matted flat against her head as she struggled to change the tire which fought her every inch of the way. She had a figure that wouldn't quit, one that normally wouldn't have been revealed if her baggy clothes hadn't been plastered right against her skin by the rain.

The two young Midshipmen jumped to her rescue, Harm worked the tire iron as Luke helped with the tire. By the time Harm tightened the last lug nut, he realized he was too late, Luke had already made his move on Annie, taking her into the warm diner where they spent the next 90 minutes talking and laughing about everything under the sun.

Not that Harm minded being out after curfew that night, since when he and Luke were almost busted for sneaking back into the Academy, he met Diane.

oxoxoxo

"Oh, how's Diane?"

She surprised him with that question, and when he felt his expression start to betray him, he moved quickly to mask the painful truth. Mindful not to speak in past tense, he thought of Mac.

"She's beautiful. As ever."

Annie's eyebrows travelled half way up her forehead.

"What?" Harm asked, unsure at her expression.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"What do I do about...?" Harm's confusion deepened.

She sat down and this time took his hand in hers to provide comfort. "Tell her you love her before she gets away again."

"What?"

"Harm, everyone knows how much you love her. You have been ever since the day you met. When you two broke up, well, Luke planned to intervene, even if it meant strapping you to the fuselage of his jet and flying you halfway across the globe to see her."

She looked away shyly, concentrating on patting his hand, "I guess he sometimes felt guilty that he landed me, while you couldn't seem to reel her in."

Harm hated lying to her, but she was finally having a good memory of Luke. That was going to help her and Josh. It was a lie, 'but maybe happiness was only just that, the lies we tell to make ourselves feel better.' Harm thought.

"Just bad timing I guess." Harm said, his mouth flicking into a smile so fast it was gone by the time it landed. "I've got to go."

"It's nice to see you Harm."

"It's nice to see you too, Annie."

They hugged, each drawing strength from the other for all they had lost in the past year.

oxoxoxo

NEXT DAY  
0330 ZULU  
AL QAZNAH MOSQUE

Harm and Mac rushed past the offended Muslims who cast very pointed glances their way. The fact they dared to enter without ablution, without proper cleansing of their hands and feet, faces and necks to rid themselves of earthly grime and sin before setting foot inside this sacred chamber was a far egregious offense than their mere uninvited intrusion during prayer time.

Mac wished her partner's stride wasn't so long, she could barely keep up with him and it was hardly becoming of her to start running to catch up. She had informed Harm of Lt. Ayers decision to turn in his wings when he was asked to fly the missing man formation in Lt. Tess McKee's funeral tomorrow.

Harm reached Bud and Lt. Ayers first and though their discussion was animated, their words were barely discernible over the distance. Mac neared and only heard Bud's words - "I wouldn't want to fly either."

Ayers bolted but Harm was right there with him, and as they went deeper into the mosque to argue, Mac turned to Bud. He filled her in on all she had missed.

Bud had followed Ayers to the mosque, as per her instructions to keep an eye on him as she went to get Harm. Bud in the interim had worked out that of the seven Howler crashes since the Gulf War, six of them happened on Islamic holy days.

It was obvious that Ayers had formed a similar conclusion as his decision to turn in his wings was entirely due to the fact that Lt. McKee's funeral tomorrow was on another holy day.

Mac strained to hear Harm and caught the tail end of his words to Ayers, "It's up to you to put an end to this or it will destroy the Howlers."

"No one will fly with me." Ayers cried plaintively, and it was true. He had tried with another female pilot and after just one sortie, she had chosen to be grounded rather than fly again with the unlucky RIO. His reputation preceded him now, and no one at Miramar, hell, probably on the entire West Coast wanted to fly with him.

"I'll do it."

Mac's eyes bulged at Harm's offer. She wanted to protest, but she knew that he would just override her and do it anyway.

oxoxoxo

0530 ZULU  
FRIENDLY SKIES MOTEL  
SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

Fresh from her shower, Mac quickly toweled herself dry and changed, pulling on jeans before rooting through her bag for the sweater she usually kept there.

Three minutes later she was dressed in a deep green sweater and knocking on Harm's room door. It took him 14 seconds to answer it and when he threw it open, it was obvious he had just stepped out of the shower himself, because he was still trying to pull on an undershirt over his bare chest.

"Mac?"

"May I come in?" she asked, her eyes slowly sliding from his muscular torso downwards to the hem of his shorts. Seeing the shorts ride low on his hips revealing the bare hip bones underneath, Mac's heart almost stopped. He was not wearing anything under those shorts!

"Sure." he answered still not putting on the undershirt.

Her eyes darted back up to Harm's face, the beginnings of a blush starting to form. She walked past him, hoping he wouldn't notice and kept her back turned towards him as he finally had the sense to pull his undershirt on.

"You decent?"

Harm laughed at her comment, "Since when were the Marines skittish about nudity?"

Mac peeked over her shoulder before turning around when it was confirmed he was mostly dressed, "Well, squid nudity aside, I came to talk..."

"What about?" Harm asked as he started toweling his still damp hair.

"What are you doing?" Mac asked.

"Toweling my hair?"

"I meant with Lieutenant Ayers."

"Nothing."

"Flying with him is nothing?"

"Yeah." he replied, not catching the increasing incredulity she was expressing through her tone.

"So seven dead pilots is nothing too?"

Harm paused at that, "Mac..."

"Harm, you're willing to risk your life to keep Ayers in the Howlers?"

"I'm not risking my life for Ayers."

"No? Then what is it? Because you seem to believe he has a future flying when no one, not even him believes so. What is it Harm?"

"If Ayers washes out, we're never going to solve this case."

"Is that all that matters to you?"

"The truth is all that matters, Mac! That's why we were sent here to investigate." he glared at her, "If that's not why you're here, then maybe you should go back to D.C. and ask for another partner."

Mac shook her head at him, "Maybe I should. At least he won't try and get himself killed every week."

"Mac..."

She stormed past him but he grabbed hold of her wrist to stop her. Instead of pulling away, she stepped up to him, going toe-to-toe with him. Her tone was low, angry, dangerous. "Let go!" she said in no uncertain terms, her eyes ablaze with hellfire. He did.

"Commander, what you do with your life is your business. But don't expect me to stand back and watch you throw your life away on a half baked plan."

She threw open his door and stormed out. Harm stood there in silence, staring at his still open door, his anger slowly rising to the top. He stormed out and followed her to her room.

Mac was barely in her room when there was a loud knock at her door. She pulled it open and was filled with the sight of his chest, heaving and breathing heavily. His hands were on either side of her door frame, and his impressive height and form filled her doorway.

She tilted her head upwards to catch his gaze. His blue eyes had darkened into a shade of gray - like gunmetal.

"We're not finished, Marine." he said, his tone letting her know he was indeed far from finished.

"Well, I say we are, Commander. I'm not about to get personal about this case, and I sure as hell ain't gonna get personal with you."

"Mac, you know how important this case is to me."

"Every case is important Harm. It shouldn't be more important just because you're personally involved."

"Like how important it was to save your uncle?"

She almost slugged him right there. But she didn't. "Low blow, Commander."

He knew it and he instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry, Mac. I don't expect you to understand, but if the Howlers don't fly tomorrow, it'll just prove that we're afraid of things we can't explain. That it's okay for any pilot or RIO who believes in superstition to turn tail and run. That's the message we'll take away from this."

"I think you're overreacting." she said, her tone softening as well.

"Am I? The next time somebody feels a squadron is jinxed, don't you think they'll bring up the Howlers? And wouldn't us allowing things to stand as is mean that we're endorsing that view? That we believe they're jinxed too?"

"And what if they are Harm?"

He stared into her expressive eyes, her concern for his safety suddenly very apparent.

"Hey, they haven't made a plane that can kill me yet." he said with his flyboy smile - a little cocky but almost self deprecatingly so.

"That doesn't mean you should keep tempting fate."

"Mac."

"Harm. Just be safe up there."

Her words struck a chord and suddenly Harm was somewhere else. Somewhere in the past.

oxoxoxo

COMMISSIONING WEEK 1985  
1400 ZULU  
UNITED STATES NAVAL ACADEMY  
ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND

Harm made his way past the hearty handshakes and backslaps as he crossed the courtyard. After four years that were both the longest and shortest in his life, he had finally graduated, and finally ready to pursue his dreams of flying.

It was a time of celebration and for everyone else it was. Harm saw how Lucas Pendry was being congratulated by his mom and Annie on his arm, both women planting kisses on his cheek among tears and smiles all round.

A few feet to Luke's left was the USNA's ultimate ladies man - Jack Keeter, or 'Geezer' as Harm & Luke called him. It was an ironic nickname due to Jack's baby faced features which made him maddeningly popular with the ladies. Currently, Jack was busy being embarrassed by his father, Mike who engulfed his son in a massive bear hug and twirled him around amid loud belly laughs.

Harm snuck past other very excited graduates and caught sight of another friend, Peter Ulysses 'Sturgis' Turner. He was with his parents, his father, Navy Chaplain Samuel Turner and his wife Nancy. They were both so proud of their son and had no problem letting him know. It drew a wry smile to Harm's lips that the normally stoic Sturgis was himself looking on the verge of tears.

Ducking into an almost deserted corridor, Harm was largely ignored by everyone he passed. The sight of his friends celebrating with their families had warmed his heart, but it didn't take away the sting that...

He had graduated and his mother hadn't come to commissioning week at all.

Not that he didn't understand. After all, joining the Naval Academy had been against her wishes. She and Frank, her second husband, had put together a massive college fund for him. He could have gone to Harvard medical and not graduate for a decade and they'd still be able to afford it. That he persisted in enrolling in Annapolis, like his real father before him, had driven a wedge between them, a wedge that at times threatened to break them apart.

Harm leaned against a wall, suddenly not having the strength to walk without shedding tears first. He was prepared for his mom to not be there but for her to actually not show up...

Grandma Sarah would have come but she broke her leg the week prior and Harm forced her to promise not to travel. At 65 it was highly impractical that she rush up for commissioning week with no one to care for her and he didn't want her to worsen because of his selfish, stupid desire to have family here.

"Hey, sailor."

Her voice was everything he needed right now. He blinked away the tears and looked at her face.

"Hey, beautiful." he said with a fake smile before leaning down to claim her lips.

Diane Schonke had seen Harm walk away from the celebration in the courtyard and after excusing herself from her parents, followed him. She was worried because of the way his face fell when he saw that the seats reserved for his family had remained empty, as they did all week. He was alone and the only one among his friends who was.

She had come to console him, to share her parents with him, even for a little while, even though after today they might not even share the same time zone. They had talked briefly about their future before today, had agreed to keep in touch, had agreed to find a way to each other when they could.

But nothing permanent.

As she felt him kiss her with all the need and want in his tall, handsome being, she knew that a part of her would always belong to him. That was all the permanence she needed.

When the kiss ended, he smiled again and this time it was the genuine, million megawatt smile he had used to make her fall in love with him. She never felt so alive as when she saw his smile, because she knew she had put it there. That in all this world, she had a part in creating something so beautiful.

"Feeling better?" she asked and he nodded.

"I am now." and he leaned in to kiss her again but she moved out of his grasp.

"Not now, Rabbit." she teased and Harm blushed at her nickname for him. She had started using it after he had proven he couldn't get enough of her in bed. "My parents are waiting for me, and I wouldn't mind if you came along to meet them."

"Wouldn't that send them the wrong message?" he asked, suddenly concerned to meet any of her family. After all they had decided to concentrate on their naval careers first.

"We're still friends, Harm, and I can tell them that. Besides they'll be very happy to adopt you once you tell them you're here alone."

She took his hand and pulled him with her. He didn't fight it, her hand in his was possibly the first thing in his life that ever felt like it belonged there. Looking at how she could brighten his darkest hours so easily, Harm knew then and there he loved her.

He loved her, but he wouldn't say it now. Not if he was going to be an aviator, he wouldn't do that to her. He wouldn't risk putting her through what his mom had gone through.

True to her word, her family made him an honorary Schonke for the day, and while Diane repeatedly introduced him as her friend, there was no hiding the fact that the family knew how thin that excuse really was. It also didn't help that they had been caught holding hands more than once, though both of her parents were polite enough to pretend they hadn't noticed.

By the end of the day, Diane didn't even bother to hide who he was from her parents anymore. She asked for some time with him and once they were alone she turned in his arms, linked her hands behind his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

"So aviation." she said after awhile.

"So cryptography." he mimicked back, referring to her chosen field. "Only you would choose to be a spy."

"Hey, it's code breaking, not running around like James Bond." she smiled. "Though being a Bond girl doesn't sound half bad. The travel, the clothes..."

"The endless string of girls he finds in every city."

"Like you're not going to leave a string of broken hearts wherever your ship docks, sailor."

"Like you won't do the same wherever you decide to go."

Realization they weren't going to be together anymore made her tears spill freely. He ran his thumb over her cheeks to brush them away. "Diane."

"I'll miss you, Harm. I... promise me you'll at least try to write."

"Send me an address and I'll learn how to." he said with a smile. She leaned in this time to claim his lips in a bittersweet kiss.

It was goodbye and a promise of forever all rolled into one, and it ended much too soon. Looking up at him with the hint of tears making her eyes sparkle, she asked one last thing of him.

"Harm. Be safe up there."

oxoxoxo

Harm leaned over Mac, the dim light from the corridor danced in the dark pools of her beautiful brown eyes. For a brief instance, he saw her as who she looked like, not who she really was. In that instance, she was the love of his life, the one who kissed him with the promise of forever. He leaned in to renew that promise...

"Sir? Ma'am?" Bud Roberts' voice cut through Harm's fog making him spin around so quickly he almost knocked Mac over.

"Bud?" Harm saw the young Lieutenant standing there with a worried look on his face.

"I'm sorry sir, ma'am, but I heard both of you fighting, so..."

Harm didn't remember them fighting, until Mac spoke, "Sorry about that, Bud. We were just disagreeing about something."

"Oh. I didn't mean to overhear ma'am, but it was quite loud."

Harm peered over his shoulder at Mac who was showing him an unhappy chagrined expression. "Yeah, I think we've settled that for now, right Commander?"

Harm nodded. "Yeah. Sorry about that Bud. We're done."

"That's good sir. I would hate to see you two fight..." at their questioning gaze, Bud decided that the less he said, the better he'd be. He quickly wished them goodnight and retreated to his room.

Harm turned back to Mac. "Well, I better call it a night as well, Mac. Tomorrow's a long day and I've got a funeral to attend."

"Just make sure it's not yours, flyboy." Mac said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Sure thing, Marine." he replied before going back to his room. Mac continued staring at his door after he closed it.

"Damn you, Harm." she said before closing her own door.

oxoxoxo

NEXT DAY  
1920 ZULU  
EL TORO MEDICAL CENTER

As the blinding light flashed in front of his eyes, Harm flinched. But soon his eyes adjusted and he could make out shapes, and make them out quite sharply.

"How many fingers, Commander?"

"Three." And he decided to show off, "Scout's honor." in reference to the way the doctor held his three fingers up.

The doctor smiled as Harm passed with flying colors. Harm looked at the doctor, a man in his late 40s who under his doctor's coat sported Marine green. "How long do I have to stay, doc?"

"The stitches are healing quite nicely, there's no sign of a concussion, you should be clear to fly out of here tonight." before the Marine doctor realized who his patient was, "But not supersonic."

"Well, what's the fun in that?" Harm gave him his patented grin, which at least worked on the blonde nurse that assisted the doctor.

"You have a couple of visitors, I'll send them in."

Harm recalled all that had happened just the day before. It was Lt. McKee's funeral and Harm volunteered to fly for the Howlers with Lt. Ayers, to pull off the missing man formation.

It went off without a hitch. Until refueling.

Harm still remembered how the refueling basket hit and broke the Plexiglas canopy. The wound partially blinded him, and there was no way he could land the plane. But he also remembered how it had come dangerously close to blinding him forever, and that was when he knew there was no jinx.

That was why he knew Lt. Ayers would be able to guide them down, even as the RIO kept screaming his head off insisting to eject. Harm had to keep him in the cockpit, had to land this bird. Had to prove there was no jinx.

As he was still alive, Harm believed it worked.

Harm didn't have to wait long to see who his two visitors were.

"Hi sir, how are you feeling?"

"Hey Bud, I'm good." Harm smiled as he shook the young lieutenant's hand. "Been better, though."

Turning back to the door he saw her standing there with her cover in her hand, concern making her almost twist the little cloth hat irreparably.

"Hey, Mac."

She looked away but before she did, he caught the relieved smile on her lips. When her head came back up however, she was immediately the squared away Marine he had come to expect and respect.

"Commander, what you did in risking your life unnecessarily..."

"Mac, come on, it was a missing man fly-by. What was I going to do, not let the Howlers fly it?"

"There were alternatives, Commander. There are always alternatives."

"But not as good resolutions, Mac. If I remember right, Lieutenant Ayers is staying with the Howlers, the Howlers are not jinxed, and everybody lived to talk about it."

"You could have been killed!" Mac tried to make her voice stone cold serious and hoped he didn't notice the tiny quiver in it. He was so smug, so damn arrogant and it pissed her off that she felt any concern for him when he obviously cared little for putting everyone else through hell.

Harm felt his blood boil. Did she really think so little of his abilities as an aviator? Would she rather have seen this squadron... Luke's squadron, fall apart? Harm kept a lid on his anger but still let it fuel his response. "Well, sorry for disappointing you, Major."

Seeing them argue was painful, so Bud stepped in to ease the tension, "I think what the Major is trying to say sir, is she's glad you're still alive."

Mac gave them both a death glare. Harm didn't take his eyes from her but lightened his tone, in much to diffuse the situation as to regain control, "Let's hope she still feels that way tomorrow, Bud."

* * *

**Next Episode:** Heroes (2x04)


	3. Ep 03: Heroes

**Special shout out to:**  
fananicfan's epic 'Fate Decides Our Futures' series. I've reread it twice already so I guess something about it speaks to me - well, I know what it is, I love the characters as they are developed there. The insights into the character motivations have sort of opened up a color palette to me - at a time when I was stuck staring at the world in only charcoal shades. I hope I've become a better writer as a result. Thank you.

* * *

**Episode 3:**  
Heroes

1730 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Sarah MacKenzie was pissed. No, beyond pissed. She was going to find that lying weasel scumbag and make sure he never saw all his teeth again.

She pushed through the crowd to the front door where she saw that smug bastard enjoying his cigar. Like he's won already! 'Well, let's see if he likes where I shove that damn cigar...'

"Major." Lieutenant Bud Roberts greeted her but she had no time for his lackey. No, she had to go right to the source.

"Commander Rabb!"

Harmon Rabb Jr. turned to the pretty Marine Major with a smile on his face, and was surprised to see the dangerous sparks coming from her. He needed to start up his charm offensive before she decked him.

"You sandbagged me with that ricocheting bullets line." Mac spat out the accusation.

"I'm just doing my job, Mac. C'mon, I'll buy you lunch." He put his hand on her arm, showing her it was nothing personal.

"Buy me lunch?" Now she was seeing red. Was this a game to him? "You make a fool out of me in there but out here we're still supposed to be friends?"

"Yes."

'Wrong answer, Rabb.' He knew it the minute he saw the dynamite go off in her eyes.

"No. Maybe you can turn it on and off like a bilge switch." She turned to include Bud in her assessment of all squids, "But I can't."

"Mac, you're taking this far too personally."

"You're damn right I am, Commander." And she turned to look at Bud again, damning him by association, before she stormed off, hoping that she hadn't hung her client in court already.

The death of Petty Officer Mark Harridan had headlines buzzing and had the full attention of the Navy. It was hard not to be enthralled by the story of the young Navy SEAL, while conducting a successful operation against enemy forces had been gunned down in a hail of machine gun fire.

He was lauded as a hero and by the time his body finally reached home, the deceased Petty Officer was already nominated for the Navy Cross - the Navy's second highest honor in recognition for his valor.

Cynics noted the abnormal haste of the nomination process, claiming it had been a PR exercise by the SecNav to deflect criticism from the Navy SEAL program.

With Congress making repeated suggestions to combine Navy SEALs with their Marine Corps' Force Recon counterparts - the emergence of a Navy SEAL national hero couldn't have been better timed to give the SecNav political breathing room.

However, after the nomination, worrisome details about PO2 Harridan's death had arisen - foremost among which was the accusation that the Petty Officer had died not due to enemy action, but in a case of friendly fire.

And the accused shooter in this case was Mac's client - Chief Petty Officer Greg Connors. From the off, Mac felt like the underdog, as if it was a given she was going to fail in her task. No one was giving her a chance and that made her angry. So what if the squid she was facing was undefeated? So was she - at JAG at least.

Of course, the undefeated squid in question was Harm, and he had never lost a case. Ever. As good as he was investigating, Harm was something else in the courtroom. He was so good his reputation preceded him - his trials always drew an audience and JAG legalmen constantly filled the courtroom to observe and study.

That reputation preceded him so much, that CPO Connors even admitted it to her - she was only his second choice - that 'after Rabb' she was the best.

That stung her pride - she was aware she was still the new kid at JAG and Rabb had about a 20-month head start on her. Of course, she was aware that while JAG had many more attorneys that had seniority over her and Harm, she rankled at the fact that Harm had indeed cemented his position as the best. His win-loss record was unmatched - 38 wins, 0 losses. He was the Muhammad Ali of Navy law.

By comparison, she was at a paltry 4 and 0 at JAG, not bad for a months work, though half of those wins had been while sharing the defense table with Harm.

This was the first case where they'd go up against each other and Mac wanted to prove to her CO - Admiral A.J. Chegwidden that he had two superstars instead of just the one. As a Marine she had to prove that no squid was superior and as Major Sarah MacKenzie she had to prove that she wasn't reliant on Lt. Cmdr. Harmon Rabb Jr. to boost her career.

As Mac quickly went over CPO Connors statements again with her client, trying to piece together what was quickly becoming a 'duct-tape defense' (one where you hoped that the temporary fix held up), she wondered why the Admiral had assigned Harm to prosecute.

It would have suited the Navy better to assign someone senior yet less indomitable to fail at this case so that PO Harridan would get his medal and they could save face.

Of course, she'd heard the scuttlebutt - Harm had been suggested by the President himself! - the shiny DFC pinned on the Lt. Cmdr's lapel last month having made an impression on their Commander-in-Chief. With his hands tied, SecNav had gotten her CO to assign the case to their number one golden boy.

Mac sighed, finding herself thinking of Harm and his 'fame' yet again. It seemed like wherever she went in JAG, his name was all she ever heard - even in the confines of the ladies room. Mac had tried to ignore the girlish sighs coming from grown women whenever the Lt. Cmdr. was mentioned, from the way his smile was better than a cup of coffee first thing in the morning, to the very specific breakdown of how well he filled out his uniform that particular day.

Not that Mac herself hadn't taken the time to notice all they had mentioned. She was only too acutely aware of the Commander's undeniable affect on her senses and more than once had found herself spacing out when they worked a case together, finding that she much rather concentrate on him than on the case.

Of course, not everything Mac heard in the ladies room was complimentary, particularly to the Marine Major that now worked with the handsome Commander. She was supposedly the latest flavor of the month, destined to wash out like his two previous partners - Lt. Cmdr. Caitlin 'Kate' Pike and Lt. j.g. Meg Austin.

It had taken several attempts at following the same crowd of JAG rumor mongers but Mac had pieced together enough of the story over the past couple of weeks to make sense of the narrative.

The 'somewhat pretty brunette' Kate Pike had left JAG because she was in love with Harm. When first teamed up, they had fought like cats and dogs, but somewhere along the line, passionate arguments must have turned into passion. No one knew if they ever crossed the line, but it was obvious that when Kate was shot down, she had taken every crazy assignment the Navy had available just to forget him - running from D.C. to Seattle to Okinawa and at latest update, to NLSO Naples.

What happened in the case of the 'somewhat cute blonde' Lt. Meg Austin was less obvious - she and the Commander hadn't even had the remotest romantic notion, their teasing had been flirtatious but it was quite evident that they had no spark. To the world at large it was obvious they were merely friends and nothing more.

But after a year of working together, she suddenly left. Officially she had gone to work with the Navy's Advanced Technology program, citing her love for computers while using her law background to help protect the Navy's interest in tech development. It was a curious career move - she traded in murders and espionage for patent law!

There was speculation that the reason for her sudden departure was because Meg had finally succumbed to 'The Curse of Charmin' Harmon' and had been shot down as well. Why else run away?

The reasons for her being shot down were wide and varied - the Commander had a thing for brunettes, which had seen quite a few blondes darken their locks for a while. Or Meg had failed because the Commander had a serious girlfriend - marriage serious - with someone from his Academy days.

But the major theory surrounding Meg and Harm was the last case they worked together - a murder investigation at Norfolk where a cryptography and information officer onboard the USS Seahawk had been killed. They speculated that Meg had made an unsuccessful play for Harm there.

And so did Commander Allison Krennick, another blonde who had a thing for him. Krennick had been aggressive in her pursuit of Harm, but something must have happened with her at Norfolk too, because after that case, even she lost her drive. So much so, she too decided to submit her request for a transfer out of JAG.

Three women (four if they counted his suddenly gone serious girlfriend), had fallen in love with Harmon Rabb Jr. and all hadn't been spared from being burned by his flame.

That must have been the reason why Harmon Rabb Jr. came back from Norfolk so changed, so cold and withdrawn, so unlike the cocky and brash Harm they all knew and loved. Like his own fire had been extinguished. From that point on, Harmon Rabb Jr. had turned his office charm down to zero, shutting out every woman he came in contact with.

Until Sarah MacKenzie.

There was much gnashing of teeth at mention of her name. Mac could have silenced them by revealing herself instead of hiding out in the bathroom stall, but then she wouldn't know - why was she the exception?

No such insight came, though apparently, Charmin' Harmon was back in full force. His smiles had returned, his swagger too. And what a swagger it was - how he filled those pants as he walked by should be deemed a narcotic because it was that addictive...

The rest of the conversation usually dissolved into inane ramblings of Harm's obvious physical charms.

Mac shook her head clear. She had a case to salvage, a CPO whose career depended on her abilities, and a hero whose brave sacrifice needed to be honored, not dismissed as friendly fire.

This was not a good case to be going up against 'perfect' Harmon Rabb Jr.

oxoxoxo

The next morning brought Harm directly in front of the Judge Advocate General himself - Admiral A.J. Chegwidden. He had been observing the progress of the trial, and was not impressed by Harm's hard line stance in attacking SEALs.

"I suggest Commander, that you find a way to prosecute this case without turning it into a witch hunt."

Harm wondered if the JAG's advice was due to the fact that he himself was a former SEAL, and wouldn't mind turning a blind eye to this black eye of an incident. Harm bristled at the restrictions his CO was imposing.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

A.J. eyed the young Lt. Cmdr. cautiously, before tentatively allowing it, "Speak."

"I'm just looking for the truth, sir."

"And are you saying that I'm not?"

"No sir. Just that you may not like the truths I find."

"And what truths would that be?"

Harm swallowed hard before pressing on, "Navy SEALs don't kill other SEALs to help them earn the Navy Cross sir."

"Careful, Commander." A.J. warned, not liking what the young man was claiming and fixed him with a steely glare. "Do you have any evidence to substantiate your claim?"

"No sir." Harm said,

"I thought not." the Admiral kept him locked with his killer stare.

"At least, not yet."

A.J. glared at the infuriating Lt. Cmdr. standing in his office. The boy was brash and if he wasn't so damned good at his job, Chegwidden would have shipped him out to Alaska by now. But he was the President's favorite, and a major pain in the SecNav's butt - which was a huge plus for the Admiral.

"I'm not telling you how to conduct your investigation Commander. But let me warn you, if I so much hear you stray away from the facts of this case and try to sway the jury with hearsay and innuendo, I'm going to make sure that the next stop of your brilliantly short career is feeding the fishes at Sea World. Do you understand?"

Harm snapped to attention. "Yes sir."

"Dismissed!" A.J. said with all the displeasure he felt, not even bothering to see the tall lawyer spin round and exit.

oxoxoxo

Harm knew he was playing a pretty cagey line, but something about this case was off... and it bothered the heck out of him.

The Admiral had warned him to stick to the facts of the case. Well, he had no trouble doing that.

Fact: Chief Connors was hiding the reason why his childhood friend had taken 12 rounds in the chest from an MP5 without firing a single shot back. Did Harridan's gun jam?

Fact: PO Harridan's dad - Chief Petty Officer Dan Harridan was prouder of his son's death than he had been of his son's life. He was glad his son died 'a hero' and had tried to intimidate Harm into rubber stamping the case so that his son could be buried with the Navy Cross around his neck. It didn't seem to matter that his only son... only child was dead. Why?

Fact: Harridan had medication vials in his home that were not prescribed by the Navy. What were they and did they affect him on the mission? Did he take them before the mission? Who gave them to him - was it Connors?

And since no answers were forthcoming from either the Harridans, Connors himself or the SEAL team in general, Harm had to resort to other means - fair or foul.

He had circumvented procedure in taking the pills Mark Harridan's mom had found in her son's apartment without establishing chain of custody first. Harm then had Bud run an analysis on them in secret, keeping defense counsel in the dark. All Harm needed to know was if the pills were also the reason why the Navy was burying a young kid who may not have had to die in the first place.

After his dress down from the Admiral, Harm entered the bullpen and saw his pretty partner grilling Bud, who was losing all his wits trying to keep her in the dark. That sent alarm bells clanging in his head and he had to move fast to help Bud.

"Morning Major."

That drew her attention, allowing Bud to step away, with the pills, Harm hoped.

Mac saw him approach her without his cocky grin for a change. That made her smile. Something was bothering him about his case and that gave her a shot of confidence that maybe... just maybe Harm's case wasn't airtight.

He saw her smile and tried not to react. That smile worried him - what did she have to smile about? However it was soon replaced by another thought. Would her luscious red lips taste like strawberries or peaches?

He forced his eyes to quickly abandon their preoccupation with her mouth and made them look in her eyes. He saw the mirth in them - did they always sparkle that way when she smiled?

The sound of an incoming fax broke the spell and he quickly moved towards the machine. He grabbed hold of the sheet, reading it quickly. When she reached for it, he held it out of her grasp, teasing her before handing it over. It was unrelated to their case.

"If you have some evidence I should know about..." she began.

He completed her sentence, "You'll eventually get it. And you can plea bargain."

"In your dreams, Commander."

"Oh you don't want to be in my dreams, Major." he called back.

"Red light, Commander."

She said it loud enough for the entire bullpen to hear. All activity came to a halt, falling quiet as about 20 suddenly very interested pairs of eyes watched their next move. Harm realized they were now the center of attention of a very rapt audience. Mac however didn't seem to care.

"Red light? There was nothing sexual in what I said." Harm shot back, "And if you think there was maybe I should be giving you the red light."

He hoped that she wasn't psychic because thanks to her comments and the shade of her lipstick, his mind decided to indulge in some very red light thoughts about her. Enough to realize that a rising situation in his trousers would soon be a very 'red light-able' offense too. He turned and walked back into his office.

Mac couldn't help the smile that tugged at her mouth. He was nervous and she had made him so. Good, she needed to break through that cool fighter jock exterior that made him so effective in court. She needed to keep him unsettled while she looked for something to sink his case once and for all.

She continued taunting him, "Why don't you just face it. Sooner or later you're going to have to lose a case. This just happens to be it."

He closed the door but peeked out through his blinds, looking worriedly at her. She added, "Losing your first case is a right of passage Commander!"

She saw how his eyes crinkled in laughter. The smug arrogant ass was laughing at her! Alright, the kid gloves were off! Mac couldn't wait for court. She was going to show him how the Marines dealt with funny sailors!

oxoxoxo

"...gunfire earlier today, ZNN can now confirm that someone did indeed fire a MP5 submachine gun inside one of the Judge Advocate General Corps courtroom. The shooter's identity remains a mystery..."

Secretary of the Navy Alexander Nelson grabbed the television remote from A.J's desk and turned off the TV. "What the hell was your boy Rabb thinking?"

"I'm not sure if he was, Mr. Secretary." A.J. responded impassively.

Nelson almost had a stroke when he'd first heard of the incident and had rushed over to handle it immediately. If nothing else, it at least showed that he was hands on, and if he could get his hands on Rabb's neck, even better. "Do you know what will happen if this comes out? Do you know what the President's people will do?"

"You're worried about the White House?"

"The White House, the President, heck the President's wife! You do not want to get on Hillary's bad side. I don't care what you need to do, but fix this A.J."

"I can't remove him from the case without casting suspicions."

"Then assign him a second chair, a handler."

"The only person who's still willing to sit next to him is already his second chair." At the SecNav's confused look, A.J. confirmed the identity, "Lieutenant Bud Roberts."

"Who's that? Never mind. Obviously Roberts can't handle Rabb. What set him off anyway?"

"Apparently he took exception at his arguments being rebuffed."

"MacKenzie pushing his buttons?"

"She was winning the argument."

SecNav Nelson was conflicted. On one hand he was happy that Rabb was losing - the golden boy needed to be taken down a few pegs. Secondly, MacKenzie winning was good - Harridan would get the Cross and the SEAL program would be protected.

But on the other hand, having Rabb railroaded would be political suicide. After all, he had approved the 'Flying Lawyer' to receive his DFC from the President, something that made him popular enough to sit in on the President's poker nights.

"At least send Rabb for a psyche eval. We can't have government employees firing automatic weapons in public spaces." Nelson finally said.

"Yes, Mr. Secretary." A.J. agreed, not making too much of a case about it. A.J. knew full well his culpability in the matter.

It had only been 4 months since that case in Norfolk - and while Harm's work hadn't suffered, as his CO, he should have recognized that Rabb was still struggling from the fallout of that investigation - and unsolved murder.

The fact that MacKenzie looked so much like 'her' obviously wasn't helping either.

Maybe it was time for more therapy.

oxoxoxo

2200 ZULU  
BETHESDA MEDICAL CENTER, MARYLAND

Harm sat in the spacious office and stared uncomfortably at the woman in front of him. When he first saw the numerous doctorates on her wall he expected someone more experienced, which was the polite way to say he expected someone older.

That she looked younger than him was a little unsettling. In her defense, with the doctor's exotic Asian looks he couldn't tell for certain if she actually was as young as she looked - she could have been 55 for all he knew. Trying not to show his discomfort, he gave her a smile and saw it returned but her professional veneer remained.

This wasn't Doctor Sandra Chang's first rodeo, or even her most challenging. It was however possibly one of the more unexpected cases to cross her desk in a while - the very traits that might make the Lt. Cmdr in front of her incredibly successful at his job also seemed to be the ones that got him into incredible trouble.

He'd been evasive with his answers so far, so she lobbed a few softball questions his way which got him to relax. Then came the slightly more direct ones which got the response she was expecting... his defenses were up instantly.

She looked at him and knew all the defensive tactics he would throw her way. First up was using his soap star good looks, complete with killer smile and piercing blue eyes. Dr. Chang understood why that was his go to with her, she didn't think many women (if any) could resist that look. Even she had to pinch herself painfully on the wrist to keep from falling under his spell.

She must have survived his offensive and surprised him by doing so because she saw the slight dimming of his smile. So he moved to the second defensive tactic.

He stood up unveiling his perfect military posture, showcasing his impressive height and displaying the grace his athletic body moved with as he paced the floor. He gripped the back of a chair in her office, displaying strong fingers that drummed with impatience.

If tactic one was charm, tactic two was to establish his dominance over the room - almost text book at this point. She decided to cut in before he tried tactic three.

"So then what happened?" she asked with a slight Midwestern accent that still threw Harm.

"Then Admiral Morris... Judge Morris refused to listen to my objections." he responded without emotion.

"And?" she prompted him as if he was a shy six-year old.

"And then... the incident."

"I wouldn't call firing a loaded..." she checked her notes, "...Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun in a courtroom just an incident, Commander."

This was one for the record books - highly decorated Navy aviator fires machine gun in courtroom. Harm knew if it wasn't for his boss' intervention and the DFC that the President just pinned on him not too long ago, Harm would probably be rotting in a brig somewhere.

Instead he was here undergoing a psyche eval, which he had to pass if he wanted to stay in the service, or even more crucially, be allowed to fly Tomcats ever again.

"I apologized for my actions." he replied.

"I know, but that's not why I'm here. I'm here because I want to know why you thought it was okay to fire off an automatic weapon at work."

"Are you worried about me going postal, doc?"

"You are working a stressful case."

"No more than usual." Harm shrugged.

"And you were in the hospital two weeks ago with a head injury."

Obviously she had gotten the report from his near misadventure flying with the Howlers.

"It was just a graze above the eye, doc."

"And a strike right around your frontal lobe. Have you been experiencing any adverse effects? Dizziness? Lack of sleep?"

"My brain is fine doc." It didn't answer her question, so he added deliberately, "No. No dizzy spells, no nausea, no loss of appetite or sensation. No night terrors."

"Then why did you fire the gun?"

How many times did he have to answer this question? First the judge, then Mac, then the Admiral, then the MPs, then Bud, then the other JAG lawyers...

"I was just trying to prove a point."

"Which was?"

"The victim's rifle didn't jam during the mission."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning the victim could have defended himself against an enemy, but he didn't."

"Why didn't he?"

"Because he was..." Harm noted that she had her pen poised over her notepad and clammed up. He wasn't about to share what Bud told him after his chewing out in Admiral Morris' chambers. He wasn't about to blurt out that the pills Mark Harridan had taken was AZT - a drug prescribed to HIV positive patients.

"He's not why we're here, doc." Harm answered with piercing clarity.

The sudden switch into Harmon Rabb's defense number three threw Dr. Chang a little. She leafed through the Commander's medical file, read the numerous psychological evaluations he had had to undergo as part of his fighter pilot tests.

He had tested exceptional in all of them. All. The man had ice cold veins... up until his ramp strike in 1990 that killed his RIO and by all accounts should have killed him as well.

"No he's not. We're here to talk about you. Why do you take so many risks, Commander?"

"It's part of the job."

"No, Commander, it's not. You're a lawyer. Not a pilot, not a cop or a fireman or a superhero. You don't have to put your life or career at risk to prove a point. But you do. Why?"

Cue defense number four - facetiousness. "I never said I was smart."

"I don't think the Navy lets dumb pilots into their planes."

"...Aviators."

"Hmm?" Dr. Chang's pen stopped moving at his comment.

"We're called aviators." Harm explained.

"And here I thought JAGs were known as attorneys."

That caught him by surprise. He hadn't realized his freudian slip until now.

"It's okay to still consider yourself an aviator, Commander. After all, just because a dream is taken from us doesn't change the fact that once we used to live the dream."

"Even if you can't have the dream anymore?" Harm asked sadly.

"You form new dreams. New hopes and goals."

"Like?"

"What do you want in life?"

"What does anybody want?"

"Happiness. A home. A job where everyone respects you. Someone to share your life with." Sandra sighed.

Harm nodded. That's when she realized she had fallen to Harm's defense number five - he was getting her to share her thoughts, not the other way around! This one was unexpected, he listened while saying little, luring people to fill the air with talk. Without doubt this was something he honed during his time at JAG leading investigations and interviewing witnesses.

But she was having none of it. "So why pick JAG?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why not anything else. You're smart... ish. You could have chosen a number of fields. You could even have given up the Navy to fly day tours."

"Are you suggesting that I should have given up?"

"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just asking, why JAG?"

"Because I want to help people."

"You could do that in your spare time."

"Because JAG's pretty exciting." he switched tack.

"But not exciting enough?"

At his raised eyebrow, she explained, "Machine guns and flying jets..."

"Well, it's never boring."

"And that's why you do it? Because it's not boring?"

Harm squirmed under her scrutiny. "I believe in finding the truth."

"And that truth would be?"

Harm bristled at her continued questions. Asked and answered, ad infinitum, ad nauseum, by countless shrinks in the past. "You know what it is."

"Do I?"

"I'm sure you have theories."

"Do you have any?"

"It's about my father." Harm said with a hostility that bordered on sincerity. Defense number six - excuses that masqueraded as the truth. "My poor missing father."

"Okay." and the psychiatrist put down her pad, done with him.

"Okay?"

"Yes. You may leave."

That was easier than he thought. He picked up his cover and moved quickly to the door.

"But I'm recommending you be removed from all your cases."

That made him freeze. "What?" He turned towards the doctor, his eyes trying to set her on fire. "You can't do that."

"It is my recommendation, Commander. What are you going to do about it?"

Harm was silent, his eyes continuing in its belief she would burst into flames any second now. The doctor didn't even flinch.

"If you want to shoot up this room, I recommend you start over there." she indicated the wall next to her desk. "Never quite liked the color."

"Is this a joke?"

"No, Commander Rabb. But then again, you don't seem to be taking this seriously, so why should I?"

Harm had no comeback. Taking off his cover, he sat back down on the couch, though his anger hadn't even come close to subsiding. "Okay. What do you want?"

"What do you want, Harm?"

"I want to return to work."

"Why?"

And that stumped him. Why did he want to go back to JAG? What was he after? What did he want? He had a ready answer, an obvious answer, a fake answer.

But it refused to come pass his teeth. He ran frustrated fingers through his hair and kept silent instead.

Dr. Chang saw him run out of defenses and knew that finally, they were ready to start confronting his issues. She flipped open her notepad, "When did you first decide to join JAG, Harm?"

oxoxoxo

THREE DAYS LATER  
1730 ZULU  
HARM'S APARTMENT  
NORTH OF UNION STATION

Harm didn't hear his door open. Cuban Jazz played loudly on his stereo, his head bopping in time with it.

He didn't see who opened his door either. His eyes were preoccupied with the old floor sander that he had picked up on the cheap from a yard sale. The damn thing kept stopping for no reason and he was beginning to see why he'd gotten it for the steal he did.

He didn't know she was there until she squatted three inches to his left and shouted his name in his ear, "Harm!"

He jumped at that and looked up into the stunning face of Sarah MacKenzie. 'What was she doing here?'

She held up the paper bag that reminded him of their lunch plans. She got him something vegetarian, that was thoughtful of her, even as she insisted on Beltway Burgers for herself... again.

'Dear god, where did she put that unnatural processed crap away because it sure didn't seem to stick to an inch of her.' he thought as he eyed her. Not hidden by her uniform, Sarah MacKenzie in civvies was... wow, with a small 'w'. He imagined that the figure underneath her clothes would probably warrant the capital 'W' and probably an exclamation point too.

"Where do I set up?" she asked, not seeing a hygienic or even moderately clean solution in the entire 'work-in-progress' apartment.

"The only clean place is... the bedroom." Harm smiled, knowing there's no way she would agree...

"Works for me." she responded immediately, surprising him. He followed her up the stairs to the bedroom where she shrugged off her jacket and parked her rear at the foot of the bed, before laying out their respective meals.

Their initial conversation was light, and if Harm didn't know her better, flirty. Of course there was no way in hell that the serious and beautiful Marine sitting on his bed right now would ever flirt with him - not after she had noisily called a red light warning in the bullpen earlier in the week.

"Cute does not work on me, Harm." Mac said, blithely ignoring the fact that handsome, sexy smiles and piercing blue eyes did indeed work, and work very well indeed.

"I wasn't being cute. I was being funny."

"Yeah, like the way you fired that H&K in court?"

"Well, I thought it was pretty funny when you ducked under the table." Harm teased.

"I'm a Marine, Harm. Marines don't duck."

"What do Marines do?" Harm looked at her amused.

"They take cover, but they never duck." She returned his ever growing smile.

As they continued digging into their meals, Harm recalled when Mac had dripped ketchup on his briefcase a couple of days prior.

"You better not get ketchup on my sheets, Marine."

She rolled her eyes at him, "Please, a little ketchup would probably improve your decor."

"And what's wrong with my decor?"

Looking around she cast a critical eye over everything, "Meh."

"Is that the technical term?"

"Lacks color."

"What are you talking about? The glass blocks have tint..."

"Harm, clear is not a color." she laughed, "But then again, it does fit in with your personality."

"Oh? And what exactly is that?"

"Transparent, a bit of an exhibitionist -"

"Exhibitionist?!"

"Why else would you let visitors look right into your bedroom and bathroom, Harm? You want them to see you naked."

"Oh, like your apartment doesn't say anything about you?"

"It says I have good taste."

"Taste? I thought I was back on my grandmother's farm."

"Please, I saw you gawking at my furnishings."

"Only because I was shocked it wasn't a disaster area."

"Like this one?" she gestured to his incomplete apartment.

"I've seen your desk at work, Mac. How do you get any work done?"

"I have an organized mind."

'And a killer body.' Harm stopped at that. He hoped he hadn't said that out loud. A quick look at Mac showed her taking another bite of her burger. 'Guess I didn't.'

"So are we going to make this a regular thing?"

She quirked an eyebrow at that, "Regular thing?"

"You know, you feeding me whenever I let you win."

"Excuse me?!" she whirled around so fast her burger almost spilled onto his covers.

"Watch the sheets, Mac!" Harm tossed napkins around her to protect his precious bed.

"Harmon Rabb, you did not let me win. I beat you fair and square."

"As I recall, I dropped the case."

"As I recall, you had insufficient evidence to proceed!"

Harm picked at his chicken cacciatore. Mac noticed his sudden change in demeanor.

"Wait, Harm. Did you?"

'Damn. She might be right about being transparent, Rabb.' his consciousness stated, "Did I what?" he replied in between bites, "Hmm... this is good."

"Did you have sufficient evidence against my client?"

"Mac..."

"Damn it, Harm, tell me the truth!"

"The truth is... Petty Officer Harridan walked into the line of fire."

Her mind worked quickly, forming the right conclusion, "But that's suicide. Why?"

"He was HIV positive."

Mac could only stare at her JAG partner, "Harm, you hid this from the court?"

"Harridan's getting the Navy Cross."

"Which he wouldn't have earned if you..." Realization dawned, so that's why he did it. And it revealed to her another part of his personality - he wasn't just another arrogant flyboy. He was a reckless one too. "It's not your place to decide, Harm."

"You wanted the truth, Mac. That's the truth."

"You're not going to go all Jack Nicholson on me are you?"

He raised an eyebrow - what the hell was she talking about?

"You can't handle the truth!" she quoted.

He laughed, "Guess that makes you Tom Cruise."

"As if you didn't pretend to be Tom Cruise back in the day, Maverick."

"Why imitate when you are the real deal?" He waggled his eyebrows.

Mac rolled her eyes at him, "And the ego has landed. But Harm..."

"I'm not expecting you to cover for me, Mac. I just felt... I owed you the truth."

Mac couldn't believe this man. Was he so honorable that he'd willingly fall on his own sword just to hold on to his beliefs? Mac had served under honorable men, but even they paled in comparison to her new partner.

"It doesn't change anything."

He looked at her, unsure as to what she meant.

"The prosecution couldn't find sufficient evidence to proceed. I won fair and square."

Code for she had his back. He knew it and she knew it.

"Mac..."

"I believe the appropriate response is congratulations on your win, Major."

He grinned. Perhaps this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

oxoxoxo

They were in bed, their clothes strewn all over the floor and he was glad they weren't wearing their uniforms when this started.

"Oh god, Harm!"

Harm smiled as he saw her writhe in pleasure.

"You like that?" he asked, his voice low, his tone seductive.

Through closed lids, she let out a breathy "Yes." She reinforced it with action as she brought his head back down to her chest. Once more, his mouth opened to take the nub that required his urgent attention.

He saw her arch her back in ecstasy, pushing more of her perfect breast into his mouth. His tongue flicked the aroused peak and she moaned again, but this time she opened her eyes.

And stared right into his soul. Her eyes sparkled in the dark and he swore he could almost see her every thought in them. With a smile, he decided to show off his new found telepathy.

His mouth released her nipple, garnering a muttered protest from her. It didn't last long when he trailed his tongue downward, around the curve of her delicious chest, across her tummy, to her navel. So far so good.

When his tongue licked to just above her aching need, almost there but never quite, she gasped, before his warm breath started to send warm tickles up the rest of her nerve endings. She squirmed, her giggle sounded like sweet music to his ears.

He teased her by staying there for far longer than she liked. As her slender fingers ran through the dark strands of his hair, gently pushing him to move, her words came out as breathless sighs.

"Harm. Lower."

"Yes ma'am."

He obliged and ran his tongue to the inside of her thigh, to her knee. And kept going.

"Harm!"

"Too low?"

He saw her stare down at him, saw the flash of frustration that creased her brow, making him chuckle before planting open mouth kisses back up her tanned legs. This appeased her enough to forgive him.

"Harm. Please."

He was almost undone by her pleading. He had never heard her say his name as sexy as she just had, deep with desire, breathless with arousal, velvety with want. He couldn't torture her for much longer, as his own painful arousal made it known he was only torturing himself by prolonging this game.

His tongue slipped into her core and reveled in her scent and taste. It was manna from heaven. She bucked hard against his face, needing more and more of him, so he gave her more.

His hands cupped her buttocks and lifted her hips slightly allowing him better access to her deepest reaches. As his mouth nipped, kissed and teased, he felt her tremble, already so very close to completion. She begged.

"Please..."

And he obliged. The second his tongue flicked against her hardened clit, she threw her head back and screamed his name. He felt her convulse, already taken far over the edge as he sated on her juices. He stilled his movements until she came back from the heavens and back to him.

He smiled down at her fulfilled form when she pulled him up to cover her entire body. His own ardor burned hot against her thigh, so very close to where she just experienced heaven. She kissed him, gently, sweetly, lovingly. Reaching down, she guided him into her and they sighed. They were two sides to a whole. They were one.

"I love you, Harm."

"I love you, Diane."

She frowned, "Who's Diane?"

"Mac!"

Harm threw off the covers as he jolted wide awake. He felt around the bed in panic and desperation but found it empty. He was alone. It was a dream.

He collapsed back against his pillow, his body pumping pure adrenalin through his veins causing his heart to pound forcefully against his chest. He fought to regain breathing at a normal rate, fought to regain control of his body. It was going to take awhile.

He rolled over to cast very awake eyes on the digital clock radio beside his bed. It glowed accusingly in bright red numbers - 04:15 AM.

Sighing, Harm rolled back and ran his hands over his eyes, rubbing them clear. There was no way he was going to be able to get back to sleep tonight, it was way too early to go out for a run and he didn't have an appetite for breakfast.

Coffee was going to be his best friend all day today, and rolled out of bed to start his first pot.

Harm tried not to dwell on the dream that he was sure was of Diane, had started off as Diane but had become his partner at JAG.

He tried not to dwell on which made him feel worse - the fact that he had dreamt of Diane, or the fact that he had so easily replaced her with Mac.

* * *

**Next Episode:** Crossing The Line (2x05)


	4. Ep 04: Crossing The Line (Part 1)

**AN: **This episode is long. So long that I had to split it into two chapters.

Thanks to everyone who continues to review and share their thoughts about my story(ies) with me. I admit I kinda like the attention that I receive and so in truth, I have no doubt I do this for your feedback. :D

**Special thanks to:  
**jpstar57 & ArmyDT42 for their continual feedback and support via PM and reviews. Thanks so much for taking the time to let me know that you're enjoying the story, it keeps me fueled to write some more.

Jeneral2885 for reminding me a cool character like Skates required more scenes. Hopefully I didn't disappoint.

* * *

**Episode 4:  
**Crossing The Line (Part 1)

0730 ZULU  
USS SEAHAWK  
800 MILES OFF HONOLULU

Two F-14 Tomcats screamed their anger at the heavens as they streaked across the sky, their twin jet engines burning like mini suns in the night. Their tail codes marked their home address as the USS Seahawk, the large U.S. aircraft carrier currently steaming ahead for the southern hemisphere.

The Tomcats were on a routine flight - one designed to give their aviators flying time, while also reminding anyone fool enough to invade the skies tonight just who ruled this area of airspace.

Leading the Tomcats was the Seahawk's CAG, Captain Tom Boone. He was older than most Captains who had served their countries for over 20 years - but then again, Tom was more outspoken than most Captains and had stood on more than his fair share of toes over the years.

However he was due a promotion and his own command by the time this cruise was over - partly due to his years of distinguished service, but mostly as a gentle way to ease him out of the cockpit. Everyone thought he was getting too old to fly Navy, and somedays even he found himself agreeing as the muscle and back aches stayed for days instead of rolling away after mere hours.

But he was still around and until they took away his wings, he was going to fly like he always had - hard, fierce and damned near like it was going to be his last time up.

Seated behind him was his RIO, Lieutenant Elizabeth 'Skates' Hawkes. She was young, young enough to be his daughter, and if not for her obvious exotic mix, one might have even been convinced she was indeed Boone's kid.

They were cut from the same cloth and her outspoken manner would serve her well in the seat behind any pilot - but not necessarily her career in the Navy. Not like she cared, she signed up to fly, not be popular among sailors.

"What's Little Miss doing back there?" the CAG asked Skates, referring to the F-14 following them.

Skates had her eyes glued to her scopes. "She's keeping up, sir."

"Nice to know they at least taught the girl how to fly." the CAG admitted.

The girl in question was Lieutenant Marilyn Isaacs, or Little Miss as she was known by the CAG for her fussy ways and the incessant primping and preening he found disgusting in a Naval Aviator - no one cared what you looked like under the helmet. It wasn't her official callsign - at least not yet. But it would be soon.

Unless she screwed up, in which case she'd be known as Roadkill.

"Let's see if she can keep up with this." the CAG went into an ambitious sustained 8-G turn that tested even his physical endurance. He was getting up there in age, but he could still fly with the best of them - and in his squadron, he only had room for the best.

Skates felt her own vision start to blur, but she wasn't even close to blacking out or tossing her cookies. She'd actually survived worse - one crazy Split-S into J-turn the CAG had done in testing the Tomcat's ability to pull it off in the previous cruise came to mind.

The Cat performed admirably. She and the CAG though felt like they had sent part of their souls back to their maker - coming in feeling very much lighter with shaky smiles and shakier knees.

Watching the scope as the second Tomcat fell behind, Skates reported through her mask. "She's lagging a little, sir. I think she was caught by surprise."

"Were you caught by surprise, Skates?"

"No sir. But that's because I know you're a crazy old cuss, CAG."

Peeling off his mask, the CAG smiled at that comment. "Little Miss should know that as well."

With the maneuver done, Skates peeled off her own mask and returned her attention to the scopes. "She's coming back in sir. Closing quick. Buck two, one, one click."

"Coming in way too hot. What's she trying to do, wave at me when she flies by?"

"If she does, permission to light her up, CAG."

The CAG laughed. He didn't think that his female RIO would have troubles with his female pilots, but then again in his experience, women weren't exactly known to be at their charitable best to one another.

"Stand down, Skates. How are we on fuel?"

"We've got another ten minutes. Eight if we decide to dance with Little Miss some more."

The CAG spoke into his helmet comm "Isaacs, how are you doing on fuel?"

Her voice came back over everyone's headsets. "Low CAG. Five minutes and we're swimming back."

Annoyed that she hadn't said anything about her fuel before, the CAG fired back, "Then stop crawling up my six and slow down, Isaacs."

There was a brief pause before a grudging reply came, "Yes sir."

The CAG switched his comm to talk with Skates only, "She backing off?"

"Yes sir, but she didn't sound pleased about it."

"Does she ever?"

"No sir, but then again, the same could be said of me."

"You're different Skates."

"How sir?"

"Well for one, you fly with me."

"Aye sir. That makes me either effin' brilliant... or friggin' crazy."

The CAG laughed again.

oxoxoxo

As the Tomcats closed in on home, the CAG eased off on the throttle allowing Isaacs' plane to inch ahead.

"You first Lieutenant." he said into his mouthpiece.

"Yes CAG." came her reply.

"Just don't foul up the deck when you're done."

Isaacs was not pleased by the Captain's inference that she would mess up her landing. The old man had no clue as to what she could do. He had tried to school her tonight but she was sure she had surprised him by keeping up... and in some aspects surpassing him.

"Lower your tailhook, Isaacs." her RIO - Lt. Jimmy 'Tarzan' Larson reminded her to put down the little piece of metal beneath the 36,000 lbs monster she was going to land so that it could snag onto a cable as large as her arm on a landing strip as wide as a toothpick. Or at least that's what it felt like landing in the dark.

And it was dark.

The next few seconds were hairy as she fought the plane. The crosswinds had caught her by surprise - her RIO hadn't said anything about it, screwing up her first attempt at landing.

And no one was helping her second attempt either. They all wanted her to fail, including the damn Landing Signal Officer - the LSO shouting in her ear.

"Wave off! Wave off!" the LSO screamed.

"We're gonna hit the deck!" her RIO panicked.

They had no faith in her. She was going to show them. She was a Naval Aviator and she was going to land this damn bouncing piece of crap equipment. She was convinced that they'd purposely arranged for her to have a poor plane tonight. She fought the stick, forced the nose of the plane downwards.

"We're gonna..." her RIO shouted again, but this time she screamed back.

"Shut the hell up!"

The wheels touched the deck and she opened the throttle to full in case she didn't snag a wire, she'd have enough thrust to get the hell out of there for another pass. But she snagged the cable this time, jolting them to a stop. She'd done it, no fuss, no muss, and she didn't foul up the deck like the CAG said she would.

In the skies above, the CAG stared down at one of the worst carrier landings he'd ever seen in his 28 years flying with the Navy.

"She got lucky, CAG. Any lower and she'd be roadkill." Skates said, breathing a sigh of relief that Isaacs hadn't indeed earned the nickname. But barely. She had snagged the first wire. Five feet lower and she, the plane and her RIO would have been a big ball of flame.

"Guess the crew will be calling her FLAK for now, CAG." Skates continued, referring to the unflattering nickname Isaacs earned tonight - 'Fudged Landing, Almost Killed.'

"They can call her what they like Skates, but as far as I'm concerned, she's cooked."

Skates nodded in understanding. Lt. Marilyn Isaacs was done. She'd never fly again on this cruise, and possibly ever again for the Navy.

oxoxoxo

FIVE DAYS LATER  
2330 ZULU  
SOMEWHERE IN THE SOUTH PACIFIC

The Marine transport helicopter sped across the water towards its target - which at the moment was just an indistinct dot bobbing peacefully on top of an incredible emerald sea. All around was an endless eternity of sky meeting ocean that seemed to stretch out over the edges of the world.

As the helo neared its destination, the dot grew into a gray line, then a gray shape. And suddenly the gray shape was a large ship - a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier almost a quarter-mile long and 24 stories high. A small city in the sea. A small city made for war.

While from a distance the USS Seahawk with its complement of cruisers and warships moved with gentle ease, up close it was evident that they were racing at upwards of 30 knots against the wind.

Lt. j.g. Bud Roberts' face broke into a wide smile as he finally caught sight of the aircraft carrier he once called home. He turned to the attractive Marine beside him - Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie and pointed the Seahawk out.

"There she is. My first sea duty!"

"Your only sea duty, Bud." Lt. Cmdr. Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr. shouted back causing Bud's grin to widen considerably more.

Mac smiled at his enthusiasm as she stared out the window to take in the view. She had to admit that the big gray landing strip growing in size as they neared was quite a sight to behold.

Not sharing their excitement was Harm. As senior JAG, he was lead on the investigation that brought them here to the middle of the ocean past the equator line - to the ship where he had his finest hour as an aviator, and a sobering reminder of his current misery.

A cold September night 17 months ago, Harm had landed on that very deck with a stricken F-14, saving the CAG Capt. Tom Boone and his own neck in the process. It had earned him the Distinguished Flying Cross from the President in a ceremony at the White House.

An unseasonably warm October morning four-and-a-half months ago, Harm had found the woman he was prepared to make a future with, lying dead on a Norfolk dock after she stepped off that damn ship.

That was all he knew the USS Seahawk as now. That damn ship.

oxoxoxo

Ensign Harriet Sims, the Seahawk's public relations officer squinted against the bright noon day sun as she tracked the helicopter landing on the aft deck. The bracing sea breeze coupled with the mini tornado whipped up by the rotors forced her to keep hold of her cover tightly. She lost one before to inexperience her first day on the job, she wasn't about to lose another now due to forgetfulness.

When the helo doors opened, the three JAG officers she was there to greet descended, first the tallest of them - a Lt. Cmdr, followed by a statuesque Marine Major and finally a shorter Lt. j.g.

Harriet hoped they were the same people in the dossiers Fleet Command had sent to her computer last night, or this was going to get very embarrassing very fast.

"Commander Rabb, Major MacKenzie, Lieutenant Roberts? Ensign Harriet Sims." Harriet introduced herself to the three, and this close in was a little awestruck by all of them, though each for very different reasons.

The Lt. Cmdr was handsome and his reputation preceded him. It wasn't everyday she got to meet an honest to goodness All-American hero who was built like a dreamboat to boot.

The Major herself was intimidatingly gorgeous and as sweet natured as Harriet tried to be, even she had to glare with some jealousy at the killer physique suggested at underneath the Marine uniform. Some women just had all the luck.

The Lt. j.g. though may be the most intimidating of all - after all he was Lt. Bud Roberts, the previous Public Affairs Officer aboard the Seahawk and the man who she was frequently measured up against.

"The Skipper assigned me to be your escort aboard the Seahawk, sir, ma'am." Harriet explained her presence to them.

"Thank you, Ensign." Mac replied.

Bud turned to Harm, "I wonder if the Skipper's aware I'm aboard, sir?" prompting Mac to shoot a silent query at her tall JAG partner.

Harm explained, "Bud was the previous Public Affairs Officer on the Seahawk."

"Yes, sir. He's a legend, sir." Harriet agreed.

Bud's eyes brightened at that. He was proud of his role serving onboard ship, even though it wasn't a vital function to a carrier battle group most of the time. Still it was a role designed to keep morale among the crew up and he was sure that as pretty as Ensign Sims was, she did a far better job without trying than he ever did busting his back.

"Now, if you'll stick to my six... that's what the pilots call their tail, ma'am." Harriet said to Mac.

Mac glanced over at Harm, giving him another knowing smile, "So I've been told."

As Harriet started to walk, Bud suddenly stopped short, "Ensign Sims."

Harriet turned around at the mention of her name and saw Bud's sheepish expression, "I don't mean to question your sense of direction, but the aft hatch?"

"It is the quickest way, sir." Harriet explained.

"Yes, but... well, the Major here is wearing high heels, and that might be a problem on the knee-knockers on the O-4 level." Bud turned to Harm for support, "You remember those, sir? Seven ladders straight up that top out just aft of the bridge?"

Harm glanced over at the petite blonde Ensign who was trying her best to not look chagrined and miffed that she had been corrected by visitors to her ship. She soldiered on admirably, adjusting the slight frown into a tight friendly smile.

"Good call, Lieutenant." she said with professional courtesy if without the warmth of her earlier greetings, "I guess I've been at sea too long. I've forgotten women wear those darned things. Follow me."

Harriet led them round the alternate route and while it wasn't a huffy storm off, it might as well have been in intent.

For the most part, Mac could follow both the junior officers in front of her leading the way towards the bridge. But there were times she was very glad for the tall former aviator that decided to hang back and pace her. As much as she wanted to understand the directions Harriet and Bud gave, it took a gentle reminder or two from Harm to make sure she wasn't completely turned around.

"This shows that we're crossing over from port to starboard, ma'am." Bud explained as he pointed out a confusing array of letters and numbers over the hatches.

At her confused look, Harm leaned in, "Don't worry Mac, a couple of days and it'll all make sense. Next corridor head right and up.

She blew out a exasperated breath. She understood the nautical terms, but this just made her feel... un-Marine-worthy. She who could navigate jungles, deserts and mountains without a map, tell time without a watch, tell direction just by using the stars, was completely befuddled by a labyrinth of identical gray bulkheads and letters that made no logical sense. If the ships were built by Marines, she knew they'd have logical signs - but leave it to the squids to make everything harder than necessary.

They caught up to Harriet and Bud who were actually busy comparing notes about the best route through the ship, further confusing Mac. She was glad that Harm decided to cut through their chatter with a question of his own.

"Harriet... are there any holdovers from the previous crew?"

Mac would have thought it an innocuous, if strange question, if not for Bud's reaction to it. His demeanor was suddenly serious and he almost went stiff as a board.

"Well, ninety percent of the crew is new, sir." Harriet replied.

"And the ten percent that isn't?" Harm asked a little more insistently.

"Mostly propulsion, sir." Harriet responded. "We don't make as many nuclear technicians as we need, sir." she said with a wry grin.

"What about the officers?"

"There's the Skipper and the CAG. As well as a few pilots and flight deck officers..."

"What about Lieutenant Sarah Williams, or Commander Holbarth?"

Mac eyed her partner curiously. He sure knew a lot about the previous crew of the Seahawk.

"Sorry sir, I've not come across a female Lieutenant Williams, but I do know Commander Holbarth transferred to the USS Chattanooga after the last deployment, sir."

Bud spoke next, almost uncharacteristically quiet to Harm. "Sir, if you would like to meet the Skipper and CAG first to prepare them..."

"Prepare them for what?" Mac asked, extremely curious as to the reason for the cryptic comments passing between both her JAG colleagues.

Bud blanched at her comment and looked guiltily towards her to explain, but Harm silenced him with a glare. Harm glanced at Mac before replying as much to her as to Bud as to Harriet, "I think we shouldn't keep the Skipper waiting."

"Yes sir." Harriet responded and led them up the steps leading to the bridge.

oxoxoxo

When the JAG officers entered the room, the Skipper - Captain Dwight David Ross turned around to greet them. He knew the tall, brash pain-in-the-butt aviator turned lawyer anywhere but he was almost floored when he looked at the Marine Major standing beside him.

He recognized that face since she had spent months working the communications section on his bridge, and especially because of her tragic fate after the last cruise.

A glance sideways showed that the CAG, while not being a permanent resident of the bridge but who had his fair share of coded orders and insults to send up to the jocks ruining his sky, recognized her as well. To their credit, both men held their initial shock down to the smallest of reactions for the shortest of seconds.

"Commander Rabb!" the Skipper greeted to mask his shock.

"Sir." Harm replied on all of their behalf as the three JAGs snapped to attention.

"At ease." the Skipper said, his eyes frequently drawn to the Marine on his deck, as if trying to convince himself she wasn't who he thought she was, and failing to see how it wasn't.

"How's it feel to be back in the real Navy?" the CAG, Capt. Tom Boone spoke casually to Harm.

"Pretty damn good, sir." Harm responded before turning to Mac to introduce them, "Major MacKenzie, Captain Boone."

"Welcome aboard." the CAG said, eyeing the doppleganger.

"A pleasure to be here, sir." Mac responded smartly.

The CAG finally noticed the junior officer who now sported a silver bar instead of a gold one on his collar, "Mr. Roberts, you've made Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Bud replied with a wide smile.

"For what? I had nothing to do with your promotion."

"For remembering me, sir." Bud clarified.

"Well, I never forget a face... and today seems like a regular homecoming." Captain Boone said as an aside as he sipped his coffee, casting a glance at all three familiar faces.

Harm cut the pleasantries short and addressed the CAG, "I'd like to arrange a time to take your statement, sir."

All business, the CAG turned almost bored eyes to Harm. "Let me see if I understand how this works, Commander. One of my officers has a problem, but instead of coming to me or the Skipper, she calls a hotline somewhere in Washington."

Taking another sip from his cup, he continued to sum up the situation, "And the next day, my selection for command gets put on hold while a couple of JAG lawyers fly 6,000 miles to interrogate me. Is that about it?"

"The Navy takes sexual harassment seriously, sir." Mac said holding his gaze.

"So do I, Major." Boone stared back equally hard before walking away, "You know where to find me."

Once the CAG was out of earshot, the Skipper spoke next, "Two things. First, you have my full cooperation. Second, no one will interfere with the investigation. And that includes me. I'm only interested in the truth."

"We all are sir." Harm replied.

"And in case you didn't know, the CAG has grounded Lieutenant Isaacs for unsafe flying."

"Was this before or after she filed her complaint, sir?" Mac asked.

"Two days before. She came in low. Tailhook hit the ramp." Skipper revealed.

"The CAG made a tough call." Harm said in understanding.

Mac disagreed, "Tough on Lieutenant Isaacs, sir."

Capt. Ross turned to the Marine, "The Navy has a clear duty to give all of its pilots the best possible chance to succeed, Major. It also has a duty to keep them alive. Understood?"

"Yes sir." Mac and Harm replied.

"Good. Dismissed." Skipper Ross ordered and the JAGs turned to leave. But then the Skipper added, "Commander, a second if you may."

Harm whispered to his JAG colleagues, "I'll catch up later." letting them step through the hatch as he turned back to the Captain. "Yes sir?"

Keeping his voice low, Ross asked, "The Major... is she and Lieutenant Schonke...?"

"No sir. It's a coincidence." Harm said stiffly.

"Pretty big coincidence. I could swear that's her identical twin walking right there."

"Diane was older by a few years sir."

"That doesn't mean they're not related." and that stilled Harm. He hadn't even considered the possibility.

The Skipper asked, "Is the Major being here going to be a problem, Commander?"

"She doesn't know about Lieutenant Schonke sir, so I don't see how it'll affect her."

"I meant for you."

At Harm's raised eyebrows, the Skipper explained, "NCIS had a lot of questions about the Lieutenant... and her suitors."

Meaning NCIS had mentioned him to the Skipper, "I see sir."

"Besides, it isn't everyday that a JAG slugs a suspect in full view of the entire crew. I trust that won't happen again?"

Harm thought back to that day where he had roughed Lieutenant Lamm up in the Norfolk diner. Lieutenant Lamm... the man who had harassed and probably killed Diane... the man who apparently took his own life trying to escape justice...

"No sir."

Capt. Ross' voice cut through Harm's memory, "Commander, my advice..."

"Yes, sir?"

"Let it go. It's best not to dwell on the past."

"Is that all sir?" Harm said without acknowledging the Skipper's advice.

"Yes, Commander. As you were."

"Aye sir." Harm snapped to and exited.

oxoxoxo

0530 ZULU  
USS SEAHAWK

Harm quickly made his way back to his temporary JAG office, followed closely by one very angry female Marine. Normally Harm could have shut her out. Unfortunately for him, onboard ship she shared the same office.

Mac was the last person he expected to fight on what was meant to be an 'impartial' inquiry. However as it involved a sexual harassment accusation, gender neutrality quickly became impossible, at least among the two JAG lawyers.

They had just finished their interview with Lt. Isaacs and while her arguments were thin and her answers wanting, both JAG lawyers had taken more offense at how each other had phrased their questions to the Lieutenant than at the young aviator's actual replies.

Mac found him to be dismissive of the young woman's claims and Harm found his JAG partner to be making a case where there was none.

Harm closed the hatch door to their office behind him only for Mac to throw it open again.

"Commander, I have not finished my argument."

"Lieutenant Isaacs has no case to argue. She was grounded because she's a bad aviator."

"And not because she's a woman, Harm? Come off it! I've heard the innuendo that goes on around here. You squids are all alike, you think this is still some exclusive boys club!"

Harm noticed that some of the sailors outside were attracted to their raised voices, or at least hers and shut the door again. Now they could shout at each other in privacy.

"This has nothing to do with gender, Mac. You heard the CAG's review of her flying. She's reckless, error prone, doesn't take responsibility for her mistakes..."

"Gee, Harm, if she shot a loaded machine gun off in the courtroom, she'd sound almost familiar."

"Easy, Mac. We're on the same side here."

"Are we? Harm, why is it when a male pilot survives a botched landing he gets a pat on the back, but when a woman does it, she's written up by the CAG who posts it up for everyone to see?"

"Those comments are public, Mac. Everyone can read it whenever an aviator screws up. I know the CAG. He'd ground anyone who flew that badly, regardless of their gender."

"So it's only a coincidence that he's railroading one of his female pilots?"

"Mac, women complain about wanting to be treated just like one of the guys. And then you turn around and complain when you're being treated like one of the guys?"

"But we're not, are we? There's a double standard here, Harm. A woman has it harder. She can't screw up, not even once." Mac was conscious of her own past transgressions. 'Or if a woman screws up, she can't ever get caught.' her inner voice added.

"Well I don't see another aviator pressing sexual harassment charges, so don't talk to me about double standards. It's a nuisance claim and it's because of claims like these that real harassment cases fall through the cracks!"

"Well I'm so glad you've already ruled this isn't sexual harassment, Harm! I was afraid you wouldn't keep an open mind!"

Harm looked at his partner, her fury made her eyes burn brightly. The air was charged with electricity.

Harm recalled the last time he had fought so fiercely with his JAG partner on the Seahawk. Lt. Caitlin Pike and he eventually wound up spending a weekend together at a secluded cabin in the woods, where the only thing to do was each other.

Mac on the other hand was not Caitlin Pike and Harm knew there would be no weekend together with her anytime soon. Especially not after she walked out of the office, slamming the door behind her with the force of a small explosion.

oxoxoxo

Mac stood overlooking the Seahawk's fantail. The sun was setting over the horizon, painting the sky with all of God's colors... and she barely noticed it.

'What was that fight all about?' Mac questioned herself. While on the surface it wasn't anything different than whatever she and Harm unleashed when arguing a case against each other, the aftermath hadn't struck so hard before.

Deep down she knew why. 'Why is he so in control all the damn time?' Harmon Rabb Jr. had suffered setbacks in his career, like crashing on a carrier deck where he killed his Radar Intercept Officer. Yet he bounced back up, unscathed, untouched, squeaky clean.

His control was infuriating because it was a reminder of how she was not in control. She wondered sometimes if he was a robot, an experiment made by the Navy meant to test her every nerve. And then she'd remember the sadness in his eyes whenever he looked at her and knew that he was human. Infuriating but human.

She also realized that she knew so very little of her partner. She knew who he was now, but she knew almost nothing about his past aside from the broad facts covered by his Navy service record.

She had seen the MIA bracelet around his wrist and had heard from around the office how he wore it as a reminder of his father. She wanted to talk to him about it, to see if he was okay, but part of her was afraid to open that door. If she asked him about his father, he might ask about hers...

Her childhood was hard, painful, shameful. He was proud of his heritage. Maybe because he had a hero of a father, instead of a drunk. Maybe because the problem with him was that his father never came home.

And the problem with her was that her father always did.

She had been a drunk by the time she turned 16. Perhaps it was a miracle that she had even graduated high school, or perhaps it was luck that even hammered, she could remember facts, figures and formulas that she had only read about twenty minutes before her SATs.

She had revealed her alcoholism to Harm within 24 hours of knowing him. She'd never been so open with anyone that easily or that fast, and that worried her.

'Why do I want to tell him everything?' she asked herself. 'Why does his opinion of me matter so much? Why do I even care?'

'Because you want him to want you.' The answer scared her. It scared her more when the motive also became crystal clear.

'You want him to want you. Because every man you have served with at one point or another has desired you physically.'

It wasn't a boast, not that she found any pride in the fact. The men she had served with did desire her physically, she had heard the nasty innuendo that swirled around her, and had seen it in their eyes as they leered. Especially since she didn't give in to their advances.

Sleeping around would have ruined her career but more than that, sex would have given all the power to the man in the relationship. Neither were consequences she wished to pursue, her mistakes had given her enough lessons to last a lifetime.

That didn't change why she wanted him to want her.

'You want him to want you like everyone else. So he's just like everyone else. So he's not special.'

It scared her to realize she considered him special in the first place. When did that happen? She could understand lust. That was probably it - lust. He had no place in her heart.

'Then why am I'm afraid of telling him the truth? Of telling him about my past?'

'If he ever knew, he wouldn't want you. He'd lose all respect for you'.

And Mac knew there was some truth in that. She saw what Harm saw every time he looked at her with those amazing blue eyes with flecks of gray. She saw the respect he had for her, the perfect little Marine - and he made her almost believe that she was when he looked at her that way.

But she was far from perfect. While her service record was spotless and she had sailed past every professional obstacle with ease, she was very, very far from perfect.

Because she hadn't been caught. If her mistakes were ever put under the spotlight, like Lt. Marilyn Isaacs', they'd probably throw the book at her. The difference was, no one would defend her. Not even Harm.

Any further introspection was interrupted by the very sailor she was thinking about when he popped his head in through the door.

"Hey."

"Hey." she replied, turning back to face the sunset. She felt his presence beside her and scooted over to make room.

"Don't go too close to the edge, you don't want to fall over." Harm said making her turn to him slightly. The wind whipped through his hair, giving him a boyish charm that Mac hated to admit made him look even sexier than he usually did.

"I can swim." Mac said prying her eyes off him.

"Not down there. The vortex sucks you under, you go through the screws and you come out looking like Spam." Mac could almost hear the smile in his voice. Damn. He made it so easy to forgive him without him actually apologizing.

"What do you make of Lieutenant Isaacs?" he asked.

"She carries herself well. I like her attitude."

"I'd like her case a whole lot better if she'd filed a complaint before she was grounded."

"We're talking 48 hours, Harm. It takes time." she said still not looking at him.

"How much time does it take to figure out you had your six pinched?"

That made her look. He flashed her a soft smile, one that he hoped showed her that while he was sorry they argued, he wasn't apologizing because he had nothing to be sorry about. It was a case. They fought. It happens.

She must not have gotten his message because her frown returned. "She needed time to weigh the consequences. She put her career on the line by filing her complaint."

"The CAG put his career on the line by grounding her."

"I think she's got a case. Slow dancing with another woman, getting groped, poked with a pitchfork in the butt."

Harm looked out over the horizon. The sun was barely over the waters now coloring the sky with an angry crimson glow. "Hell, when I crossed the Equator, I spent a half hour slow dancing with Bob Fredericks."

His admission broke through her foul mood and she couldn't help but smile at the mental image. "Did you date much afterwards?"

He looked down at her and caught her widening smile. He laughed in response. "Would you be jealous if we did?"

"Only if he was an excellent dancer, Harm."

The tension broken, their shared laughter drifted off into the cool night breeze as the sun finally decided to turn off its light.

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**


	5. Ep 04: Crossing The Line (Part 2)

**AN: **This is Part 2 of the 'Crossing The Line' chapter. Hope you're still with me.

* * *

**Episode 4:  
**Crossing The Line (Part 2)

0600 ZULU  
USS SEAHAWK

"The good old days are gone, Harm. They ended with Tailhook. This is a new Navy with new rules." Mac said as she leaned against the desk behind Harm. He was staring up at the monitor reviewing flight tapes of Lt. Isaacs' near ramp strike that cost her her flying privileges.

Without casting a backwards glance at her, he answered, "Hey, whatever may or may not have happened during 'Crossing the Line' there's no evidence the CAG was involved."

"Is that friendship talking?"

That made him look away from the screen and back at her. "I want to ask you something."

When her cocked eyebrow signaled him to proceed, he continued, "Are you more likely to believe Lieutenant Isaacs because she's a woman?"

Mac locked eyes with him briefly before looking away from his intense gaze, "I've had to fight a lot of prejudice to get where I am, Harm. I guess that makes me want to give her the benefit of the doubt."

Harm wondered if the prejudices Mac faced stemmed from the fact that she was a woman, or that she was a beautiful woman. Most sailors had no trouble treating a woman built like a tree trunk like one of the guys. But throw in curves and suddenly any thoughts of equality went off tangent.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was probably guilty of such prejudice himself in the past. She was right, it was a new Navy.

The problem was too much of the old Navy remained. It was just a question of whether the CAG was also part of the old problem.

He turned back to the tapes and saw Lt. Isaacs landing attempt. On screen was a grainy night vision video of the approaching Tomcat.

"Whoa. It was a bad approach from the beginning." Harm provided commentary. "Rolled out on final, called the ball. Her approach lights are below the cross hairs."

"So she's under the glide slope?" Mac's eyes were glued to the screen. Even though she knew the outcome, it was still like watching an impending train wreck happening in slow motion.

Audio came over the TV - the LSO's elevated voice revealing his own mounting edginess, "Tomcat 2-0-4. You are under glide slope. Power! Power!"

The nose of Lt. Isaacs' plane suddenly bobbed upwards above the glide slope - like a buoy in rough seas. Harm leaned in as he filled in with more insights.

"Now she's got too much power. She's flown right back up through the glide path."

"Tomcat 2-0-4. Wave off! Wave off!" the LSO on TV screamed.

"She ignores the wave off." Harm watched enthralled. They watched as that plane barely cleared the deck and snagged the first wire to come to a stop.

"A few feet lower she'd have had a ramp strike." Harm said as he leaned back in his chair, finally released from the video's spell.

"Sir?"

A new voice made them turn. A cute, diminutive Lieutenant stood there with a handful of binders and a no-nonsense demeanor. She introduced herself and the purpose she was there, "Lieutenant Elizabeth Hawkes, sir. The CAG asked me to give you these."

She handed the binders to Harm as Mac spoke to the woman, "I'm Major MacKenzie, JAG Corps."

"Everyone on board knows who you are, ma'am." she replied without the faintest hint of a smile, which prompted Harm to hide his. He knew Lt. Hawkes wasn't exaggerating, anytime an attractive woman came aboard ship, the entire cruise would know her name, height and had a general (if generally inaccurate) idea of her body shape by the end of the first hour. And Mac was definitely an attractive woman.

Mac pressed on, "I'd be interested in hearing why you took part in the 'Crossing The Line' ceremony."

"The same reason all the women were." Hawkes revealed. "It's important to be one of the guys."

"Were you improperly touched, spoken to lewdly or otherwise sexually harassed?" Mac asked.

"Not that I noticed."

"You don't feel you were singled out because of your sex?" Harm jumped in.

"No sir."

"Even when you were forced to dance with Lieutenant Isaacs?" Mac asked incredulously.

"The only problem was we both wanted to lead." the Lieutenant answered, again cool as a cucumber.

Harm and Mac observed her, Lieutenant Elizabeth 'Skates' Hawkes, 25, was everything a good RIO should be - the complete opposite of an aviator. She was confident without being arrogant (as opposed to a pilot's arrogance without being confident), wasn't susceptible to ego-stroking and wasn't high maintenance.

Unfortunately the very traits that made her a good RIO were also the traits that made her feel less like a woman everyday she was here. She was a little too much of a straight shooter - and which man doesn't like being lied to a little? - a little too cool to not have impossibly high standards in choosing a mate, and a little too independent that she was pretty much becoming the man she herself would like to date. If she were gay, perhaps it might solve a few problems, but as her eyes kept being drawn to the mouth-wateringly gorgeous Lt. Commander instead of the Marine Major, she knew which team she played on.

"Let me ask a hypothetical question," the Marine Major asked and Skates turned her attention back to her, "What would you have done if someone had grabbed you?"

"A woman who can't handle some jerk playing grab-ass doesn't belong in the Navy, ma'am."

It was a true statement, but it didn't mean that it was an answer Mac had to like. "Thank you, Lieutenant." she thanked the RIO for her candor.

"Skates, ma'am. That's what they all call me."

"Skates?" she asked.

"Because I grew up on wheels." Skates gave the simplified story behind her callsign. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am? Sir?"

At their nod, she spoke, "For a woman to be one of the guys, well, sometimes she has to be willing to give up something of herself. You know, be less of a woman. And sometimes it sucks."

Harm noticed the slight droop in the young lieutenant's shoulders and shared a look with Mac. Her hard gaze back told him without words the words he knew she'd say - 'I told you so.'

"The question is, why should she have to be 'one of the guys'?" Mac said, more in comment than a question.

Harm knew the young RIO had a view of Isaacs' landing from the sky and asked for her perspective, "What's your opinion of Lieutenant Isaacs' skills, Skates?"

"Can't say anything about it, sir."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"It's a thing, sir."

"Care to define it, Skates?" this time Mac pressed.

"Would love to ma'am. If I could."

Harm switched tack, "What about the Lieutenant's landing?"

"She made it down, sir."

"Judging from the video, it doesn't say much."

"It says she didn't kill herself, sir."

"Not this time." Harm added almost as a whisper, but loud enough that both women heard him. Mac shot him a dirty look.

"Not this time, sir." Skates surprised the two JAG officers with her agreement.

"And you believe she will at some point?" Mac sought confirmation from the CAG's RIO, mindful that she may be covering for the man she flew behind.

Skates didn't want to confirm that either. It was not her job to kill another person's career. "Sir, ma'am, I didn't get enough aces in flight school to get a slot to pilot one of these birds. Sitting in the back seat isn't exactly my first career choice."

"So you're jealous of the Lieutenant?" Mac asked a bit more pointedly.

"No ma'am, I think Lieutenant Isaacs was given a golden chance to earn her right to fly."

"But?" Mac felt it in the air and knew it was coming.

"But she seems to have forgotten that you have to earn that right everyday."

"She can't earn her right back if the CAG keeps her grounded."

"Perhaps she needs to earn it someplace else then, ma'am."

"Is that your opinion?"

"It's not an opinion ma'am. This is the United States Navy, not some summer camp for kids who wanna play pilot. You do your job right or you go home."

Skates eyes locked on to Mac's, "And ma'am, if we get sent home, it's either in disgrace or in a wooden box. Only one of those gives you a second chance."

oxoxoxo

0830 ZULU  
USS SEAHAWK

"What do you think of Lieutenant Isaacs' request, Harm?"

Mac asked her JAG partner as he walked her back to her assigned quarters. It was late and while she had told him he didn't have to, it gave them an opportunity to discuss the case. Plus, she still had troubles navigating the ship - though that wasn't something she'd freely admit to him.

They were talking about their second interview with the troubled Lieutenant. Isaacs had asked if she could return to flying immediately if she withdrew her complaint against the CAG - if he'd be willing to let bygones be bygones and sweep the whole thing under the rug.

"I think she's confused about how the Navy works, Mac." he said plainly as he followed her down the ladderwell before taking the lead once more. He continued, "Even if she dropped her complaint, it's not up to the CAG to reinstate her. She has to go before the Flight Review Board to decide if the CAG was right in grounding her in the first place."

"So what chance does she have at appeal?" Mac asked before she ran straight into his back. He had stopped so suddenly it caught her by surprise. "What the-?"

She saw the slowly descending horror that marred his handsome features. He was staring at a closed hatch door... no, the numbers above the closed hatch door.

"Harm?"

He didn't expect that Mac would bunk nearby this cabin. He supposed he should be grateful that they hadn't put her in the exact same room...

oxoxoxo

5 MONTHS AGO  
SLEEPING QUARTERS  
USS SEAHAWK

Neat letters formed on the page. Lt. Diane Schonke wrote in a clean, small script - one where legibility and economy allowed her to cram more thought and emotion into a single page than most could in several letters home.

'Dear Harm.

I don't know when you'll receive this letter but seeing this is my last week onboard the Seahawk, I'm actually hoping that I do beat it to your doorstep so that you'll hear my thoughts straight from me instead of through this sheet of paper.'

'I know that the last 3 months apart (102 days) hasn't actually been easy for either of us - well, not for me anyway as I'm sure every pretty girl in D.C. has been keeping your dance card filled while I'm away. I want to say I hope that's all they've filled, but I know that you've probably thrown yourself into work and the only woman who's probably seen you in any capacity is Meg. How is she by the way? Hope you haven't scared her off with your crazy stunts yet.'

'No, I've not replaced you with anyone on my end either, sailor, so quit asking so many questions about the cruise. Besides, you know I can't share - not unless you want this letter to arrive redacted and you'll worry even more.'

'Yes, I know for the most part they don't read our letters to each other - but know that I'm paranoid that way. I guess that serves me right for being a trained spook. I can't even enjoy those Tom Clancy books made into movies anymore without shouting at all the inaccuracies. And trust me, his films have the least.'

'Have you spoken to your mom recently? I'm glad that you're talking to her again, even if you claim the only reason you're doing so is because of me. I'll let you have that lie, as long as you're happy.'

'I know you promised to take me to meet her, but can we hold off for a bit more? Yes, I'm chickening out, again, but... I'm not sure if I'm ready for it. I'm not sure if I ever will be. It's not like my parents - they love you. I'm just not sure if she would ever feel the same about me.'

'How are you sleeping? You'll probably say the same as you always do - terribly. Know that you're not alone in that regard. I know that I wake up most mornings missing the smell of your coffee. I know that I wake most mornings missing more than just that as well. You've spoiled me, Rabbit, and hopefully when I get back soon, you can continue spoiling me.'

'I miss you Harm. I wish you were here with me. Even for a minute. Even for a second. I know it's unbecoming to beg so please don't laugh. Sometimes I'm tempted to start a shipboard incident just so they'll send you out to investigate - and hopefully I can swing it that you'll defend me at my court-martial.'

'The letters that you write back are sometimes the only thing that keep me going. I know it's not fair to share with you how miserable I feel sometimes, but this cruise has shown me that shipboard life is not for me. I'm a desk spook - not a months-at-sea one. Hopefully when I get back I'll be able to land something close to home.'

'And yes, home is where you are and wherever you are going to be.'

'I've given it some thought and I know you hate hearing it again, but if I can't find a station close by, maybe I should quit. It's not to say that my skills aren't useful in Washington - heck, I might even write a spy thriller. I've been offered a couple of book deals - though they are more interested in memoir style stuff.'

'I'm stalling and you know it. I'm stalling ending this letter because I don't want it to end. I want to speak with you face-to-face for hours and hours about the last 102 days and where the next 102 are going to take us - and if I'm lucky (and if you're still interested) in the 102 days beyond that. And beyond that. And beyond that.'

'I need to get this letter out today if it's going to have any chance of getting to you within the week. One week and I'll be home. One more week and we can start on that future you wanted to talk about.'

'The future I plan on being a part of.'

'I love you.

Always yours,  
Diane'

oxoxoxo

"Harm?!"

Her voice cut through his fugue. Snapping back to the here and now he whirled round to look at Mac. Her Marine uniform was the only thing that kept him from crushing her in an embrace, from claiming her lips in a searing kiss, in crying tears of joy and relief that she was alive.

Only her uniform kept his tenuous tie on reality. It wasn't the first time he cursed that she wore the wrong uniform. That she was the wrong woman.

"Harm, what's wrong?" she asked again, concern in those large brown eyes.

How could he tell her that everything was, that she was, that all this was wrong. "Nothing. Just... lost my way, I guess."

She knew he was lying, the ashen hue of his face leaving no doubt that whatever he had seen or imagined had shattered his cool fighter jock facade completely. She teased though, "Lost onboard ship, Harm? What will Bud think?"

It took a few seconds but a nervous smile soon grew into his normal one after a few calming breaths. "He'd probably think you were lying, Marine."

"Poor Bud. Should I be worried you've got him wrapped around your little finger?"

"Like you don't bend him to your will, Mac. I see how you've got him scurrying to do your paperwork for you."

"Like you don't do the same."

"I'm just maximizing the resources the Navy gives me."

His cocky aviator smile was back and somehow Mac felt better for it. Sure, he could be an unbearably arrogant ass at times, but those times made it easier for her to keep a distance between them.

When he acted like his damaged self, something about it tugged at her heartstrings and made her want to hold him. Those were dangerous thoughts to have.

oxoxoxo

2230 ZULU  
USS SEAHAWK

The helicopter carrying Congresswoman Adele DeLong touched down on the aft deck. For Harriet this was the second time in three days she'd done this and as nervous as she had been during the first, this visit made her nerves jangle worse.

Not because of the Congresswoman herself, but because of the ceremony she had put together under the diligent gaze of the Lieutenant j.g. from JAG standing close by.

Harriet sighed out loud, "I hope this goes well."

She was surprised to find that Bud Roberts bothered to reply, "It looks great, Harriet."

She stared at him. Though he didn't know it, she owed him her career. If not for all the neat dossiers about procedure and how to do her job he had written before he left for JAG, she was sure she would have been so overwhelmed that she would have been booted out of her job, and possibly the Navy. And that would have proven her overbearing socialite mother right.

Anyone who stopped her from proving her mother right had earned an eternity's worth of respect and friendship from Harriet Sims.

She noticed the look that Bud kept on her though. It made her freak. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Everything's fine." he responded.

"I just thought..." she said wide-eyed.

"You look nice." Bud cut in, before realizing he had said that out loud. "Uh, I'm sorry, I did not mean that."

"So you don't think I look nice?"

"Well, I just don't know if it's appropriate to say." Bud stumbled over his thoughts and they all came out as a jumble, "I mean I outrank you and I may have inadvertently harassed you. I mean not sexually of course. I mean I don't mean sexually! I'm... I'm sorry, what I said was a red light remark."

She decided to put him out of his misery. "Do you have an ulterior motive, Lieutenant?"

"Ulterior? No. No, God no." Bud bumbled on, looking increasingly embarrassed.

"Then I'll choose to believe you were sincere with your compliment."

He hadn't the time to answer as she stepped forward to greet the now approaching Congresswoman. "Welcome aboard the Seahawk, ma'am."

oxoxoxo

The knock on the door was one he'd been expecting.

"Enter!" Captain Tom Boone said, and turned around to find the two JAG lawyers standing there. They filed in, first the Marine Major then the Navy Lt. Commander.

They went through the motions of briefing him of their objective, as if he needed a recap of all that's happened. He leaned back in his chair as he answered the series of questions as calmly as he could.

"She should never have been sent to the ship." the CAG said without much emotion, even when discussing the woman who was accusing him of sexual harassment.

"Because she's a woman, sir?" Mac asked, being as hard a Marine as she could be.

"Because she's a below-average pilot." Tom locked on her with an equally diamond hard gaze. "It took her three tries to make her carrier qualifications. That's two more chances than a man would get."

"If she had a shaky training record, why was she moved through?" Mac asked not relenting in her gaze. Obviously she was the bad cop in this scenario.

"There's a lot of pressure from Washington to get women into the front seat, Major. During her tour, Lieutenant Isaacs progressed from undistinguished to disastrous."

His jaw clenched biting back his disgust, keeping it from his voice, "She was a total flop at Air Combat Maneuvers. She never got a shot off."

"Who'd she blame that time?" Harm said, being the good cop in all this, only to be shut down by his partner.

"Commander Rabb, please don't editorialize."

The CAG folded his arms, "The Seahawk Controller for not getting her into the right position. Claimed he put her in front of the bogey. The truth is, Lieutenant Smith had her."

A hint of a smile disturbed the mustache on Tom's lip.

"For the record, who is Lieutenant Smith?" Mac asked.

"That would be Lieutenant Margaret Louise Smith."

He saw the female Marine's countenance drop for a second before she regrouped, "You grounded Lieutenant Isaacs after a substandard landing. The LSO log indicates OSCB, EGAR, DNKH."

"That's correct."

"Can you tell me what those initials stand for, sir?" Mac asked.

"OSCB, Over Shot Came Back. EGAR, Eased Gun At Ramp."

"What about, uh... DNKH?"

"Well, that's the technical one, Major. Damn Near Killed Herself."

Mac's gaze at Harm hardened when she noticed his slight smirk at the CAG's reply. It was near imperceptible but it didn't mean it didn't exist, and hardly befitting an impartial JAG inquiry into whether the CAG held a ready bias against Isaacs because he felt she was the wrong gender to step into the cockpit.

She knew of the CAG's well founded distaste for women in combat, but Lt. Marilyn Isaacs wasn't just any female aviator. She was Congresswoman Adele DeLong's poster child - the backbone of the politician's reelection campaign that anything a man could do, a woman could do just as well while being twice as pretty.

"You have no doubt that you made the right decision, sir?" Mac asked stiffly.

He took a steadying breath. "Lieutenant Isaacs is a danger to herself and to others. That's why I grounded her."

"And how would she prove that she's no longer a risk if you won't let her fly?"

"Major, do I look like I run a flying school?"

"It's your job to make sure your pilots are prepared for every eventuality, Captain."

"I can teach them how to avoid SAM sites, how to dodge machine gun fire and fool a sidewinder missile. The one thing I'm not here to do Major, is to hold their hand as they land their bird."

oxoxoxo

0630 ZULU  
USS SEAHAWK

Harm turned angry eyes at the politician standing on the bridge. "You had no business getting Lieutenant Isaacs put back in the aircraft."

"Mister Rabb!" the Skipper admonished the sailor so very close to insubordination.

"Captain, I'd like to hear what he has to say." Congresswoman DeLong said, turning back to the Lieutenant Commander, or soon to be former Lt. Cmdr. if she had her way. He obviously was part of the old guard and the only way the Navy could progress into the 21st century was for chauvinistic males like him and the CAG to move aside.

Harm rose to her bait, "You helped to manipulate the system to get her what she wanted. You have no idea the risk you've put her and the rest of the crew..."

"That's enough! Mister Rabb, I'll see you in my at-sea cabin immediately after the mission." the Skipper practically bit Harm's head off. He needed to. It might already be too late to save the man's career, but he could at least stop the Commander from hanging himself on all the rope the Congresswoman was feeding him.

"Aye sir." Harm snapped to attention.

Mac caught the Congresswoman's undisguised glee at Harm's reprimand and wondered if that was how she wanted women to build careers in the Armed Forces - by destroying the careers of good men, like the CAG and Harm if necessary.

Lt. Marilyn Isaacs had been reinstated on the behest of the politician who had enough clout to force the hand of four-star Admiral Alexander Drake - the Commander of the Pacific Fleet.

And now Isaacs was behind the controls with Skates, the Seahawk's most experienced Radar Intercept Officer behind her, going up against the CAG and Lt. Traulson - the Seahawk's newest and least experienced RIO in a dogfight exercise.

Even though most of their aerial maneuvers happened out of sight, every word broadcasted over their comms could be heard on the bridge - a courtesy afforded for the Congresswoman's benefit and not a standard practice.

"Come on, take it easy Marilyn. You're flying into a black hole." Skates voice came over the radio.

Mac saw Harm grimace at every mistake that Skates pointed out. No, he took no joy in hearing Isaacs fail. The Congresswoman though was too wrapped up in her own political agenda to notice that.

"It's okay, Skates. I've got it." Isaacs called back to her temporary RIO. Marilyn bridled at the fact that Skates was the CAG's RIO, so she already knew she couldn't trust a word the woman said. She was just another member of the CAG's exclusive club - designed to make her fail.

The entire bridge watched the developing dogfight happening in the distance outside as one Tomcat outfoxed the other. It took two turns - one by each plane to show the complete gulf in class between the two pilots - Lt. Isaacs did well to pull of a 7-G turn to place herself on the CAG's tail. She had him in her sights and just when it looked like she'd won, the CAG showed why he had survived Vietnam.

"That was a nine-G turn." Harm said with open admiration, "Only the CAG could make a move like that."

And with that pass, the game was over. A massive electrical storm was moving in far too quickly to make any more attempts safely. Not that Marilyn Isaacs wasn't willing, her frustration evident as she left her comm mic on for the entire bridge to hear.

"We could have made another pass. Then I would have nailed his six."

"Settle down, Marilyn." Skates tried to calm down the hyped up aviator. "You don't want to take chances in this weather."

Harm had a bad feeling about this. Maybe it was because on a night like this 7 years ago on the flight deck of the USS Enterprise his eyes had failed him, but there was a bad vibe in the air tonight. "Skipper, permission to go onto the LSO platform?"

"What's the matter Commander? Too embarrassed to watch how wrong you are from up here?" Congresswoman Adele DeLong gloated.

To his benefit, Harm kept a straight face, "No ma'am."

The Skipper stepped in to stop anymore career suicide on Harm's part, "Commander, I don't believe you'll be missed."

"Aye aye sir."

Mac watched as her partner walked out the hatch and into the night. She wondered once they got back to Washington if she'd see the exact same thing, only permanently.

oxoxoxo

Skates looked over at the aviator in front of her. Perhaps it was frustration or perhaps it was full blown madness but the non-responsive nature of Lt. Isaacs worried her.

"Put the hook down." Skates repeated. Still no response.

"Get your goddamn hook down, Marilyn!"

Almost like released from a trance, Isaacs pulled on the lever. "Hook down."

Skates heard something call to her - either from high above or deep within her core - and she obeyed it. "Selecting command ejection, rear seat." she toggled the control switch of her Martin Baker.

The F-14 bumped and bounced its way through turbulence, high winds and unsteady piloting, and Skates couldn't tell which of the three was having the worst effect. She heard Isaacs ignore all course correction suggestions. Then the most horrific words Skates had ever heard come from the front seat, came.

"Automatic throttle is screwing us up! I'm flying manual." and she turned off the computer control.

The bird pitched and yawed even worse as Isaacs found every air pocket and hit it hard. Skates saw the altitude numbers on her scope tumble.

"Marilyn, we're sinking too fast!"

"I have it." the pilot said working overtime to keep the plane in the sky.

"Power! Power!" the LSO screamed over the comm. "Power!"

"Marilyn!"

"I have it!"

Skates knew it was coming, knew that Isaacs' luck had just run out. She pulled on the ejection cords above her head, felt the explosive bursts blast out the canopy and for one half second the chill of air at 140 knots bit into the tiny bits of exposed skin her mask, helmet and visor didn't cover.

But then she was airborne, away from the plane. Flying.

oxoxoxo

"Fire on the deck!"

Harm picked himself up from the deck as he saw the fireball that was all that remained of Lt. Isaacs' Tomcat. He rose on slightly unsteady feet, the ship reeling from the hard impact, as well as the loud boom of her crash that still left his ears ringing even through the earmuffs.

Then he saw the sight of the parachute. Only one. Whose?

But he was already running towards it, unsure if he would reach her in time. "She's falling into the fire!" he shouted at no one in particular, hoping that someone saw what he saw.

"Yellow Team is on its way! Corpsmen on standby!" someone shouted, but Harm only saw the parachute, as if by the grace of God or a lucky stray wind, move away from the flames.

Then it dawned on Harm that that might not be any better.

"She's drifting over the side!"

Down the side where she'd be pulled in by the ship's wake. Where she would be ground into Spam.

And Harm dove over the side to catch her.

oxoxoxo

"Where's Harm?" Mac rushed onto the deck, finally able to fight her way past all the rushing crew men to make it up here.

She scanned the deck for sight of her partner, sure he was out there playing hero. Anxious minutes passed as her eyes darted to every visible inch of the deck before she saw him.

She was right, he was playing hero and was damned convincing in the role. When he emerged amid the smoke and flame, carrying Lt. Hawkes in his arms, in that one image he proved to her he was everything she had made him out to be after their first mission together.

Confident, yes. Cocky, constantly. Arrogant, definitely. Brave, undoubtedly. Honorable, to a fault. Sexy...

And Mac couldn't help but wonder... maybe he was special after all.

oxoxoxo

1800 ZULU  
USS SEAHAWK

Morning broke after what had to be one of the worst nights in the history of the Seahawk.

It had taken four hours after the late night ramp strike for the cleaning crews to clean every inch of the 340-yard ship, making sure no debris from last night's crash remained. It had taken another four hours of checks and rechecks after that to ensure that the Seahawk was finally ready to return to active duty.

The crews may have cleared the debris, leaving no inch of the takeoff ramp untouched, but there was nothing they could do about the ugly scorch that marked the site where Lt. Marilyn Isaacs had been trapped in her cockpit and burned to death.

On her way up to the deck, Mac had spotted Congresswoman DeLong exiting the Ward Room. It had been a rough night for the Washington warhorse and judging from how rattled and ragged she had appeared this morning, it hadn't gotten much easier since.

Already her calls to Admiral Drake had put her and the Commander of the Pacific Fleet under intense scrutiny in the roles they played in Lt. Isaacs crash and demise. While the ramifications would take months and a Congressional hearing to ultimately answer, Mac already knew the fate of at least one of them.

Congresswoman DeLong would not win reelection and her time in Washington was done. Her campaign was sunk, her very public support of Isaacs made her a laughing stock.

To Mac there was a tragedy on a grander scale that no amount of apology or regret could ever heal. Lieutenant Marilyn Isaacs was destined to be a mere footnote in the pages of history. Perhaps that was what she always wanted. But for her parents, they would never understand that their daughter had died doing the one thing she loved, mainly because they would never get past the fact that she didn't have to die at all.

Mac was already piecing together a report in her head, but she knew even if she wrote the whole truth and nothing but, it would still take months for Captain Tom Boone to clear his name. And it had nothing to do with his actions.

The Congresswoman would fight to misdirect from her mistake by trying to drag the CAG's name through the mud. That if he hadn't grounded Isaacs, then the young pilot wouldn't have been so eager to impress, so eager to take risks and then she wouldn't have crashed.

If it wasn't so damaging, it would have been sad to witness. There was a reason why the Congresswoman had believed Isaacs so easily - they were after all cut from the same cloth. It was never their fault. It was always someone else's fault.

Mac knew at this point, all she could do for the CAG was file her report and hope that one day soon it would help clear his name.

There was another aviator who had a mighty clash with DeLong last night. Fortunately for him, DeLong was no longer interested in ending his career.

Instead she had more of a fight preserving her own legacy, and now that Harm's observations about Lt. Isaacs had proven astute, any planned reprisals to his words were conveniently forgotten in the ensuing crisis.

As if her very thoughts had summoned him, he appeared by her side.

"Morning, hero." she said with a hint of a smile.

Harm smiled tiredly back at Mac. It had been a long night for him, jazzed by the adrenalin surge in being part of the action followed by hours upon hours of not getting in anyone's way as the crew scurried around them to ready the ship. It had left him drained and it had finally caught up this morning, but a fresh pot of the Skipper's coffee was keeping him upright, for now.

He managed one burst of his patented smile at her - the one that melted polar ice caps and broke hearts - as he greeted her, "Morning, Mac."

"How's Skates?" Mac asked as she turned round to face him, knowing that he probably had stopped by the infirmary before joining her on deck.

Mac heard the story, not just from Harm but from the LSO who witnessed it as well. Carried by a sudden gust of wind, Skates' chute pushed her away from landing in the flames on deck out towards the sea. Missing the deck was good, but it also meant she was going into the water below - into the carrier's massive wash where she would be pulled under and ground up by the ship's powerful propellers.

Harm had jumped into the safety netting on the side of the ship designed to catch careless sailors and in last night's case reckless if noble ones as well. Grabbing hold of the snagged chute, Harm hauled Skates up to safety.

"She's fine. A little banged up, but her mouth is working real well."

Mac raised an eyebrow at that comment. "And how did you verify her mouth works real well, Commander?"

She kept her tone playful though a touch of jealousy burned its way to her chest. Her eyes drifted to his lips, wondering if Skates had used the situation to test her working mouth on his.

"She's cursing up a blue storm down there." Harm said with a laugh.

Mac broke into a wide smile herself, half in genuine humor, half in relief.

A sudden gust whipped through the deck, ruffling their hair. Mac smoothed down her locks trying to get them out of her eyes. She didn't notice that Harm was suddenly staring at her intently.

Maybe it was fatigue, but for a brief moment Harm knew that the woman standing beside him wasn't 'her' and he didn't care. The way the wind tousled her short brunette locks and the way she ran her slender fingers through it trying to fix it, she could have been. He ached to run his own fingers through her hair, to brush them from her eyes the way he had done on innumerable occasions in the past when they were together...

She wasn't _her_.

It was the one thought that helped him keep control, and it was a thought he had to keep drumming into his head. She wasn't her and she never would be.

Suddenly needing distance, he moved a few steps away. Turning his attention back out over the deck, he caught a surprising sight.

"Mac, is that Bud?"

Mac saw what he saw the same time he did. "With Ensign Sims."

"What are they doing?"

"What does it look like they're doing, sailor?"

Harm and Mac stared as Lt. j.g Bud Roberts kissed Ensign Harriet Sims out on the elevated deck with the ocean behind them. Harm whistled his appreciation, getting a playful elbow in the rib from Mac.

"I just had a scary thought." Harm said as he saw the kiss still hadn't ended.

"Their children?"

Her comment shocked laughter from him and he turned a wide grin to Mac who was fighting a growing smile of her own. She chuckled alongside him as they continued to watch the unfolding romance.

Seconds ticked by and Harm's smile finally started to dim. "Shouldn't we be telling them to break it up?"

Mac glanced up at her partner. "And they say romance is dead."

"Romance is not a good reason for holding up a flight, Mac."

"We still have 11 minutes and 32 seconds until our scheduled pick up, Harm. You're just jealous someone's getting more action than you." she said ribbing him.

"Hey, I'm just trying to stop Bud before he starts a family onboard right now."

Mac rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Men."

He responded with equal playfulness, "Women."

She heard his tone and saw his sexy grin. And for the first time in their partnership, she allowed herself to keep thinking of his grin as sexy.

* * *

**Next Episode:** People v. O'Hara (Original Episode)


	6. Ep 05: People v O'Hara (Part 1)

**AN:** This is an original episode. I've always felt it was such a shame we never got to see Harm & Mac work together on Uncle Matt's trial, so this is my take.

I hope you enjoy this latest chapter, and if you do, please let me know. Feedback/reviews are always nice to read. :)

**Episode Synopsis:** The trial of Mac's uncle - Colonel Matthew O'Hara starts with the eyes of an entire nation on the proceedings. However as Harm & Mac fight to clear his name, they discover that the trial may bring up evidence of the Colonel's past crimes.

* * *

**Episode 5:  
**People v. O'Hara (Part 1)

1300 ZULU  
MARINE BARRACKS WASHINGTON  
8TH & I, WASHINGTON, D.C.

D.C. traffic was brutal in the mornings, and this morning was no different. Vehicles fought for every inch and whenever the cars touched by accident, the drivers fought too. There didn't seem like there was any way to get anywhere on time today.

Except for the three Marine trucks that sliced through the mess with no trouble at all. They didn't need police or military escorts to move vehicles out of the way or clear the roads. The trucks had even solved the problem of traffic lights - timing the city's computerized traffic grid to perfection allowed them to ride a continuous green wave. Without slowing, they came around the corner...

And were greeted by a million erupting flashbulbs as spotlights, cameras and reporters came to life. They clamored to get closer to what promised to be the trial of the century and all that held them back was a barricade manned by Marines.

But seeing that it was a Marine barricade, it was all that was needed to hold them back.

The trucks rolled by without hassle and soon came to a stop before a large building made of red brick and stone. Armed Marines descended from two of the three trucks to secure the perimeter, their weapons and eyes scanning the area for any possible threat.

After a few seconds, the Marine platoon leader bellowed, "All clear."

In the gloom of the third truck came the sound of shackles shuffling forward - a prisoner moving on his own steam. The prisoner's silhouette was of a man dressed in his military uniform with bonds clamped tightly over his sleeves and pants legs.

The prisoner stepped out of the dark and looked up into the shy morning sun, revealing old, proud features that only a couple of months ago had graced the television screens of millions of American households.

The old face of the man who stood before the stolen Declaration of Independence calling for the government to wake up.

The proud face of Colonel Matthew O'Hara.

oxoxoxo

The JAG fleet car struggled to get past the crowd of noisy picketers packing the corner of 8th and I. Most of the protest signs were in support of Colonel O'Hara, and if the case was being fought in civilian court, that may matter.

But the case was being tried before a military court - one that Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie and her JAG partner Lt. Cmdr. Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr. had prepped for intensively since their case aboard the USS Seahawk a couple of weeks ago.

Mac saw Harm inch the car forward, fighting for every gap gained until he gained enough to finally get them through the gates where the Marine guards could shut out the crowd and the media. As Harm pulled the car into the parking spot assigned them, he noticed that the pretty Marine beside him was shaking. Not a lot, not very noticeably, but enough to know that it wasn't normal.

"Mac, are you okay?"

She tried to give him a confident smile, which failed as soon as she tried. "No." she finally admitted.

"Just another day in court, Mac."

"Says you. Your uncle isn't the one facing life imprisonment."

He looked into her warm brown eyes that were so full of worry. "Hey, we're undefeated together." he said trying to make her feel better.

"Big whoop Harm. We're three-and-oh together."

"See? Undefeated." he said with his patented flyboy grin, the one that got her every time. Except today.

"That smile might get you a lot of things Harm, but I don't think it'll get us out of this one. I have a bad feeling..."

He took her hand, surprising her with the overly familiar gesture, yet comforting her at the same time as it stilled her shakes. "Hey, we're Rabb-MacKenzie remember? Opposing teams cower before us."

She ran a thumb over his hand, "Don't you mean MacKenzie-Rabb?"

"As first chair, I get top billing." he answered playfully.

Mac rolled her eyes at him but the smile that finally bloomed let him know her mood had lifted. As he moved to let go of her hand she held on for a second longer, "Just promise me one thing?"

He looked at her, saw the playful glint in her eyes. "No machine guns?"

"On the contrary, Harm. If we're losing, we're shooting our way out of there."

"Sure thing." he said with a laugh as he finally released her hand and grabbed his cover.

"I'm serious Harm."

"Let's keep that for Plan B, Marine." he tossed her a wide smile before stepping out of the car.

As both Marine and Navy JAG partners walked towards the largest building on site, several picketers shouted abuse at them over the barricade and through the fence, claiming that Colonel O'Hara was a hero and that the military were pigs in persecuting him. The freedom of speech was alive and well, but common decency had apparently passed on. Harm and Mac ignored their vitriol, not breaking stride.

It was unusual to hold a trial here at Marine Barracks, but it had the means to do so, having the ability to hold tribunals if necessary. There was a rarely used court room, but one that would be used today for the court-martial of Colonel O'Hara.

Several reporters with only the highest security clearances, vetted personally by the Commandant of the Marine Corps himself waited by the doors leading into the large Marine building. These weren't headline vultures like the ones held back outside the gates - these were the journalists that kept Washington on its toes, the Pulitzer Prize winners, the ones that made Presidents sweat.

Still they swarmed around the duo.

"How can the American public believe in a military that violates the sacred trust placed..."

"Was the Pentagon's refusal to charge Colonel O'Hara with treason due to his Medal of Honor and..."

"Major MacKenzie, does the dilemma of defending your uncle against the Marine Corps..."

Surrounded, Harm whispered into Mac's ear, "I'll handle this. You go check on our client."

She nodded, glad for the opportunity to duck out of the questions and limelight as Harm pulled the attention of the journalists.

Seeing her disappear inside, Harm finally addressed the plethora of microphones and tape recorders shoved in his face. Taking a breath, he spoke. "The Declaration of Independence is an important historical document. But it is not the physical document that is sacred, it is not the parchment nor the ink. It is the words that we hold dear, the words that are etched in our psyche, that we bleed for, that we die for."

"These are the words that forged our nation, words that symbolize what we stand for. Words Colonel O'Hara took to heart..."

oxoxoxo

Mac walked the corridors of the venerable building. Every brick, cornice, marble floor and wooden step was steeped in the rich legacy of the Corps, soaked in decades and sometimes a century's worth of history.

But it wasn't the distant past that distracted Mac, but how until 10 weeks ago this had been her duty station. She was the JAG in charge of Legal Services but her experiences in war ravaged Bosnia had given her the skills to investigate the murders of two Marine honor guards stationed here.

She heard that after her transfer, her former CO had given the case over to the local Naval Criminal Investigative Service office, a logical choice, but it rankled Mac that the case was still unsolved. Mac wondered if it was okay for her to reclaim jurisdiction of the case, but then again, she wasn't sure she wanted to start a JAG - NCIS turf war.

Mac knew that the temporary holding room for Uncle Matt would be upstairs near the seldom used courtroom. However, she would pass by her old office on her way there - and the temptation to see who had taken her place here proved too much for her to resist.

She peeked through the door of Legal Services and found that while someone had indeed moved in, that person wasn't in.

"Looking for legal advice, Major?"

Mac whirled around at the sound, and when she recognized the owner of the voice, snapped to attention. "No sir."

"At ease, and welcome back to the 8th and I, Major." The Marine Colonel smiled at his former subordinate. Mac relaxed and smiled in return.

Colonel Gabriel Sumner had just turned 48 but aside from the gray streaks forming at his temples and the crinkles around his eyes, he looked at least a decade younger.

He knew he wasn't the handsomest soldier around, nor at just a shade under 6 feet, the tallest, but the richness of his voice gave him an air of natural authority and a charisma that made him popular enough with women, though never popular enough to marry.

"It's good to be back, sir." Mac responded. She respected the man for his natural ability to lead as well as his no nonsense approach that made him so much the model Marine. He had served in Vietnam, surviving the brutal days of the Tet Offensive and while so many around him had struggled to put that war behind them, he had done nothing but excel in the Marine Corps. While she didn't need another role model, she could so easily see why the Colonel before her was one to so many of the men and women under his charge.

"I take it you're here for the Colonel's court-martial."

"Yes sir. I'm heading to meet up with him now."

"I'll walk with you. It'll give us a chance to talk, if you don't mind."

"Yes, sir." Mac replied, but his offer had caught her by surprise. Colonel Sumner wasn't prone to escorting junior officers around just to make conversation. If he needed to talk, you came to him.

"How is JAG treating you?"

"It's a refreshing challenge sir."

"I bet. Being surrounded by squids can't be healthy for a Marine though."

Mac tried not to smile at that comment, even though she agreed with the sentiment. Unfortunately with the JAG himself also being a squid, she wasn't at liberty to just blurt out her agreement.

Sumner wasn't expecting a reply as they came to the stairs and started climbing. "I won't lie though Major, your being on Colonel O'Hara's defense team isn't making you any friends here."

"Sir?" she turned to her former CO.

"I know that he is your uncle so I understand why you're defending him. But we're United States Marines and we take that honor seriously. When someone, like your uncle, betrays that honor, it doesn't matter if he was a hero. He betrayed us."

Mac bit back the loud tirade she wanted to unleash and instead found enough calm and control to manage a reply suitable for a superior officer's ears, "Sir, I don't think I should be discussing Colonel O'Hara's case with you, sir."

"Major, in my eyes and in the eyes of a lot of other Marines, your uncle is lucky not to be hanged for treason."

"Then I'm relieved that it's not your decision to make, sir." she said with a hint of bite in her tone. "If you'll excuse me, Colonel."

She left the Colonel as quickly as she could without another word and without looking back, biting back her fury and her disgust every step of the way. In her heart, it pained her to admit that perhaps the old saying was never truer than it was now - you can't go home again.

oxoxoxo

1430 ZULU  
LUCKY 7 MOTEL,  
WASHINGTON, D.C.

The motel room was neat - that wasn't to say that it was clean, it was after all a cheap motel room. The tiny room was only wide enough to fit the one bed, which was still made and completely undisturbed. The only thing that marked that the room had an occupant was the small television bolted to the cabinet on the wall opposite - it was on.

It was tuned in to the local news where a young Ted Koppel-wannabe reported, though the volume was on so low it bordered on indistinct. "Police are scouring the city for the lone escapee who..."

In the adjoining bathroom, Lewis Granger - a man in his late-40s - stared at his reflection. His face was gaunt, his skin was pale and his posture was poor. It pointed to someone who had spent far too many years indoors, but the powerful nature of his muscles showed that he hadn't spent those years being idle.

Exiting the bathroom he dried his hands on a towel with a deliberateness that suggested OCD. Once satisfied with the end result, he dug through his belongings and fished out a single black and white photograph.

It was of a Marine platoon standing knee deep in the remains of a bombed out cinema. Black letters hung loosely on the marquee above telling everyone, "Welcome to Hell, Vietnam - 1968".

Six men were in the picture, but only two of them still had faces. The rest had theirs scratched out. He placed the photo on the night stand and went back to the rest of his belongings.

And pulled out a sniper rifle. He lifted the weapon to check its aim and heft, familiarizing himself with the gun. Until the news finally caught his attention. He turned up the volume of the TV.

"... of Independence. Colonel O'Hara, the war hero who won the Medal of Honor for his exploits during the Vietnam War is currently on trial at the historic Marine Barracks Washington, where..." The news anchor droned on as footage of Matthew O'Hara appeared on screen.

Granger raised the unloaded rifle and aimed at the TV. The sniper scope tracked to the forehead of Col. O'Hara, and Granger's mouth curled into a smile.

With almost serene glee, he took the imagined shot, "Bang."

oxoxoxo

1500 ZULU  
MARINE BARRACKS WASHINGTON  
8TH & I, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Harm had dismissed the thought that having the trial at the historic home of the Marines was akin to heading into 'enemy territory' but as his eyes took in the make up of the courtroom, he had to wonder if he had been erroneous in that assumption. He was the lone Navy officer in a sea of Marine green - his dress blues sticking out like a sore thumb.

The prosecutor was a Marine JAG that Harm admitted he knew little about. However, his second chair did and she filled him in on 'Lieutenant Colonel Jeff Pfeiffer.'

He was the Marines answer to Harm, except a little more serious, a little less good looking, and a lot more experienced. He had a near perfect record in court - Good ol' F as he was known to his Marine counterparts was the Marine Commandant's go-to-guy for legal advice.

"Legend is he once made the opposing team weep during his closing." she whispered to Harm as they took their seats.

"I didn't think there was crying in the Marine Corps, Mac." he said with a sly smile.

"Opposing counsel was Navy, Harm." she said with equal parts pride and dread.

Harm let his eyes drift to the members of the jury - the five men and one woman who would decide Colonel O'Hara's fate. All wore stern looks that Harm found unreadable at the moment, and all wore Marine uniforms.

Finally Harm took in the judge - Brigadier General Thompson B. Larabee, who was proud of the various nicknames given to his middle initial - 'B' for Badass, 'B' for Bastard. He too sported a not-too-friendly face for the defense team, and Harm was sure it was purely because he, a non-Marine was first chair.

It was a feeling that Harm found reinforced with his first objection of the day, when he challenged the prosecution's charge sheet. "Objection. The charges leveled against the Colonel are overreaching and without specificity, your honor..."

And they had been, worded carefully as such by the prosecutor to not be limited to the theft of the Declaration, but including all acts from the formation of the Defenders, the militia group that had carried out the heist, and encompassing all actions directly or indirectly ordered, committed, suggested at or planned by the Colonel.

It was an avalanche charge - one that swept all and sundry into one big package, leaving the defense snowed under. And the judge allowed it!

"Overruled, Commander." General Larabee said without batting an eye before allowing the prosecution to proceed.

During the course of the day, Harm used his objections sparingly. He had learned from Mac that Marines had no fondness for time wasting and pedantic arguments, so an overeagerness to object was a turnoff to the jurors and the judge. His rare objections were well used though and subtly maneuvered the overreaching charge into more specific territory after a while.

Still the prosecutor was good. He built his case solidly against the Colonel - first submitting irrefutable evidence even Harm couldn't dismiss.

Pfieffer then created the attack on Matt's character as numerous witnesses - Marines one and all - testified how Matt had betrayed his uniform, his honor, the men and women who looked up to him, and the superiors who trusted him with his actions.

It was meant to undermine the Colonel's heroic past and discredit his noble reasons for committing the crime. And judging from the mood Harm could sense in the room, it was working.

Major General Cyril Loomis had the stand and his testimony against Matt was possibly the most damaging one yet. The two-star general was an old school Marine who had been in charge of Matt in not one but two duty stops - Da Nang from 1968 to 1971, and Fleet Marine Force Europe a decade later. While he was proud of the time the Marine had served under him, he highlighted personality and ideological clashes with Matt as far back then - clashes that had made the General hesitant to nominate Matt for the Medal of Honor in the first place.

"All I can say is that I'm not surprised that he abused his authority like this." the General said. Harm knew that the Marine jurors hadn't shown any indication they agreed with the Maj. Gen. but there was no doubt they respected his views. Harm quickly moved to diffuse the situation.

"But you weren't there, so you only have the recounting of events to base your decisions on." Harm said calmly, again Mac's coaching told him to save his passion for the last hurrah. For now, the Marines were only interested in cold hard facts.

Loomis glared at Harm, "True. It still doesn't change the fact that he abused the uniform for his own gain."

"Abused the uniform for his own gain." Harm turned to the jurors, holding their attention - he had the opening he had hoped for. "That's a very specific term, General Loomis. If you don't mind me asking, how did you meet your ex-wife?"

Lt. Col. Jeff Pfeiffer was on his feet immediately, "Objection. Relevance?"

General Larabee looked at Harm, ready to sustain the objection but curiosity stayed him for the moment, "Yes, Commander, relevance."

Harm answered, "During his days as a Colonel, the General and his... paramour were stationed in Beirut together. When he was transferred out to take command of a new unit, he requested for her to be included, even though she had no skills that were useful to his new command."

"Your honor. Again, relevance?" Jeff protested.

Harm turned to the prosecutor. "She gave birth to their son six months after the transfer. She was a Lance Corporal, an enlisted personnel."

The murmurs started as shocked eyes turned to the Major General.

"How did you...?" Loomis stammered.

"I submit signed documents and affidavits from former Lance Corporal Laura Davis, the mother of Daniel James Davis - your son, General Loomis." Harm handed the documents to the judge before he returned his attention to the Major General on the stand.

"The truth of the matter is, you used your authority to move your then pregnant enlisted girlfriend to a duty station of your convenience... which already makes you guilty of fraternization - but also in your words, you 'abused the uniform for personal gain'."

Jeff voiced his objection once more, "Objection your honor, the General is not on trial."

But Loomis was speaking too, "That's different. Beirut was no place for her and my son. I did it out of love."

"And so did Colonel O'Hara. He did what he had to because he loved his country - the same love that makes us put on our uniforms everyday and fight to preserve the rights and freedoms we have sworn to uphold."

"Objection, defense is testifying." Jeff threw out an argument more in need to stem the bleeding, but the damage had already been done. Loomis was toast and so was his testimony.

Harm knew it as well, "No further questions, your honor."

With his case suddenly taking on water, Jeff Pfeiffer quickly asked for a recess.

As Harm made his way back to his seat, Matt leaned in closer to his niece and whispered. "He's good."

"Yeah." Mac sighed appreciatively, not taking her eyes of her partner from JAG.

oxoxoxo

General Larabee called an early end to the day's proceedings. Mac hated the fact that Uncle Matt had to be shackled once more for his transport back to Quantico - he was not a flight risk nor a dangerous criminal - but as he was trained in hand-to-hand combat techniques, it was protocol for the Marine guards to put the heavy bands around his wrists and ankles.

Once they had seen their client off, Harm asked Mac for her opinion of the day, "So after round one, how do you think we're doing?"

"I think we're not losing." she deadpanned.

"That well huh?" Harm said with a chuckle that prompted her to glance at him and smile, just as they exited the building to be engulfed by reporters once more.

oxoxoxo

2100 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

It was going to be one of those days. The Judge Advocate General - Admiral A.J. Chegwidden sat with the phone glued to his ear when there was a knock on his open door. He waved for the two JAG attorneys to enter, but with an additional gesture ordered them to stay silent.

"Yes, Mister Secretary. I understand... Yes. Yes. Goodbye." A.J. said before hanging up the phone.

"Sir." the male JAG attorney started speaking but A.J. cut him off.

"That was the SECNAV, Commander, and guess what he was so angry about?"

"The Colonel O'Hara case, sir?" Harm asked not daring to look at his CO.

"The Colonel O'Hara case." A.J. confirmed. "Seems that during cross-examination, a certain Navy lawyer accused a Marine two-star General of fraternization."

"Sir, I can explain."

"No need, Commander." A.J. said, shutting him down. Instead he turned to Mac, "Major, was the Commander's performance in court overly aggressive?"

"No sir. He performed admirably." Mac said, understated as always.

"Admirably enough to win?"

"That's the hope sir." she said stoically.

"Good. Then I don't see why I have to tell either of you how to run your case. But Commander, if you're going to step on any more toes, it would be nice if you gave me fair warning first."

"Yes sir."

"Are you?" A.J. looked up at his tall subordinate.

"Am I what sir?" Harm asked, unsure as to what the question was.

"Are you going to step on any more toes, Commander?"

"I don't plan to sir."

"So it's a yes?" A.J. asked.

Harm replied sheepishly, "A strong maybe, sir."

A.J. turned to Mac for her view and she concurred, "It's better to be safe than sorry, sir."

The admiral sighed. "Understood. Just try not to piss off the entire Marine Corps, Commander. Dismissed, and close the hatch behind you."

"Aye sir." they answered in unison and spun round to leave.

Harm followed Mac to her office. He didn't enter, he just popped his head in to ask where they were going to work on Matt's defense after work.

"Hey Marine, your place or mine tonight?" he asked casually, unaware of how provocative it may have sounded.

Mac however was aware of how it sounded, but tried not to react to it. They had split equal time working from each others homes recently - though Mac was finding it harder to concentrate on the case the longer they kept working in the only area in his apartment that was big enough and clean enough to lay out all the files - his bed.

"My place." she said with wide eyes that purposely avoided his.

"Great. See you at seven."

She nodded and sat down at her desk, hiding her face behind her computer monitor. By the time she heard him enter his own office next door, Mac could feel the heat coming off her cheeks and knew that she was blushing uncontrollably.

She was glad she hadn't said his place tonight. Having Harmon Rabb Jr. and a bed in the same vicinity was definitely a bad idea.

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**


	7. Ep 05: People v O'Hara (Part 2)

**AN:** Hope you're still with me. This is Part 2 of the episode.

* * *

**Episode 5:  
**People v. O'Hara (Part 2)

0130 ZULU  
MAC'S APARTMENT  
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Harm rolled his neck trying to clear the crick in it. He'd spent the last hour and a half crouched over Mac's coffee table compiling witness notes and looking for loopholes around the near airtight UCMJ. The time spent working only reinforced what he already knew very early on - short of a complete acquittal, the Colonel was looking at 20 years of hard labor.

Mac leaned back against her couch and found that Harm was struggling to loosen the bunched muscles behind his neck. He groaned in pain and she moved closer to him.

"Here let me." she said as she put her fingers onto the troubled spot.

He was surprised by her touch, but as her fingers moved over the tightly wound muscles, he felt the knots clear away, easing his discomfort. He sighed deeply - it could have been a moan but he didn't care because it felt so good.

Mac heard his low moan and her mouth went dry. She tried not to think about the other sounds she would like to draw from him and forced herself to think clean thoughts. Her fingers continued their ministrations, working out the kinks. She tried to concentrate on the small area of flesh that she was massaging, trying to keep her hands there and not let them go exploring over the rest of his broad back. And lower.

"Ah," he sighed, "Where did you learn to do that, Marine?"

That stilled her fingers. When she didn't reply, Harm turned his head to look at her. "Mac?"

"... I used to do it for my mom." she answered quietly, moving her fingers once more.

Harm appreciated the massage and complimented her, "You're pretty good. Your mom's very lucky."

That stopped her dead. She released him but not before Harm noticed the tension in her touch. He turned around to look at her.

Mac let her hands fall to her lap and she looked down at them. Harm could read her body language and the sudden change in her mood made him concerned.

"Mac? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Not nothing. Tell me."

Mac looked at Harm and for the first time let him see the pain in her eyes. "My father used to hit my mother."

Complete shock ran up Harm's spine, paralyzing him for a second. "What?"

"My father was a drunk. And he wasn't a very happy one."

Released from the paralyzing shock, Harm climbed up to sit next to her on the couch. "Mac, I'm so sorry."

"Why? You didn't put the drink in his hand. You weren't the one doing the hitting."

Unsure how to react, Harm shifted the subject sideways, "Is that why you're so close to your uncle Matt?"

"He's more of a father to me than Joe MacKenzie ever was."

Harm reached out and took her hand in his. She was again surprised by his gesture, but again she didn't pull away. So he held her hand tighter and stared into her eyes. Her Marine facade was gone tonight, he could read every thought on her beautiful face.

He wanted to do more, but he was unsure if... no, he shouldn't do more. Kissing her now was a mistake. He didn't want to take advantage of her weakness for his own selfish desires.

Mac saw the conflict etched on his face and mistook the cause of it. "I'm sorry. I guess that puts more pressure on you tomorrow, huh?"

Trying to shake off his desire for her, he tossed back an easy joke with his patented cocky aviator grin. "Hey, former fighter pilot. I thrive on pressure."

His smile pierced through all the dark clouds forming in her mind like a ray of sunshine. 'Good god, he's so sexy.' Mac heard herself admit and she could kiss him right about now.

"So, what do you want for dinner?"

"Huh?" she responded a little confused as her mind had taken a side trip to fantasyland for a second.

"Yeah, I'm thinking of letting you choose... but you know what, I want to try that new Chinese take out you mentioned. That organic place..." he said releasing her hand.

"Ho's organic noodles?" Mac asked still slightly dazed.

"Yeah. You don't mind right?"

She shook her head, and though she knew her stomach didn't feel like Chinese tonight, her mind didn't have enough of her faculties about her to form a cogent argument to rebut him.

"You have the menu?"

Mac nodded and quickly made her way to the fridge where it was pinned to get it. With the benefit of distance she regained her composure.

"As long as you don't choose anything leafy..." she joked as she handed him the menu.

"And you don't choose anything fatty..." he teased back.

"Are you calling me fat?!"

Harm heard the sassy tone in her voice and looking up saw that she had an equally sassy expression on her face that indicated she wasn't serious. He still made a show of eyeing her though.

"I'm not, but if you want me to check..."

"Careful..." her tone deepened, no longer quite so playful.

"Come on Mac, you could probably eat an entire cow and not gain weight." he said as he turned his attention back to the menu.

He didn't catch her smile as she sat down on the couch again, "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Only a Marine would."

She punched him on the arm and he grinned. The tension in the air faded as their laughter filled the apartment.

oxoxoxo

Lewis Granger stood over the bed of his motel room, fixing strands of jute and shoelaces dyed in drab colors together. With glue and string, he checked the battle dress uniform - the BDU - he had bought from a nearby Army-Navy store. For his purposes, it didn't necessarily have to be a Marine BDU, but for his sanity - it had to be. He could never put on something that didn't represent him.

Done, Granger held up the garment to admire his handiwork. It was an advanced camouflage getup known as a ghillie suit, one which hunters and snipers used to blend into their surroundings and render them invisible to the naked eye.

Satisfied with the results, he set down the suit and picked up the sniper rifle on his bed. He started placing the rifle inside a large black garment bag, when there was a knock at his door.

It startled him and he quickly hid everything under the bed before heading to answer the knock. Pulling out a large serrated military blade, he held it behind his back and threw open the door to reveal...

Kamala, the nineteen year old desk clerk who checked him in. She was Indian and not the Native American type and despite her current cuteness, promised to be someone who would soon grow into her lunch lady arms.

"Your dinner snack, Mister Lewis." she said with a smile, holding up a plate of microwave heated pigs-in-a-blanket. It didn't look appetizing but it looked a warm meal and that was enough for Granger.

"Thank you." Granger said, not returning her smile as he accepted the paper plate.

He tried to close the door, but the Indian girl continued speaking, her accent exotic and her rhotic consonants more than adequately rolled, "If you are interested in a long term stay, we can rent the room at a cheaper rate, Mister Lewis."

"That won't be necessary. I'll be leaving soon."

"Oh, you are finally meeting your friend?"

"Yes. And he's dying to see me." he said dryly. "Goodnight Kamala."

"Goodnight Mister Lewis." she said as he shut the door. She heard the lock slide into place and she let her eyes slide to the newspaper she held by the side of the door - hidden from Granger's view all this time.

There was no doubt, the man in the picture splashed all over the front page was the same man in the motel room right now. The same man whose picture sat under the bold headline: 'MURDERER STILL AT LARGE'.

She walked away from the door as quickly as she could. Overcoming shaky fingers, Kamala finally dialed a number on her cellphone.

"9-1-1. Please state the nature of your emergency."

oxoxoxo

1430 ZULU  
MARINE BARRACKS WASHINGTON  
8TH & I, WASHINGTON, D.C.

When court reconvened the next morning, Mac found out why the prosecutor - Lt. Col. Jeff Pfeiffer was so feared and revered in the courtroom. The man was every bit the model Marine - calm under pressure, cool under fire. As he reestablished his case against her uncle, even she had to admit how in the space of mere minutes she herself had trouble believing in her uncle's innocence.

This wasn't going to be an easy case - and it was one they couldn't afford to lose.

Mac glanced at her partner's handsome face to discover that from the clenched jaw and his hardened gaze - this was not Harmon Rabb at his charming, confident best. He was worried and that worried her.

When the prosecution called their next witness to the stand, the day only got worse.

"The Prosecution calls Colonel Gabriel Sumner to the stand."

Mac's former CO and the commander of Marine Barracks Washington marched in, his crisp uniform and walk were textbook perfect. While he held no command authority as a witness, it was evident from the way that even the judge straightened in his seat that Gabriel Sumner's command presence was in full effect.

This was a Marine's Marine and everyone in the room knew it.

The preamble was unnecessary - Gabriel Sumner had a legend all of his own. Matthew O'Hara had won the Medal of Honor for his heroics in Vietnam, but to the many Marines who had served with Sumner he was equally deserving of the award.

He wasn't just a Devil Dog. He was _the_ Devil Dog.

"You met Colonel O'Hara while serving in Vietnam, didn't you Colonel?" Jeff asked establishing the reason why he had been called to testify. Mac glanced at her uncle - this was not a story he had shared with her. And belatedly, Mac realized that she didn't know anything about her uncle's days in Vietnam aside from him earning the country's highest military honor.

"Yes, he was responsible for getting us into LZs and occasionally provided us with a ride home."

"LZ's like Hué and Quang Tri?" naming sites of some of the fiercest fighting during the Vietnam conflict.

"Among others, yes."

"And he provided air support for your unit for how long?"

"Two years, '68 and '69. The years of the Tet Offensive."

"So you know the Colonel more than just in passing." Col. Pfeiffer asked.

"Our paths crossed often but wartime isn't necessarily the best time to make friends."

"You were present during this period where Colonel O'Hara earned his Medal of Honor?"

"I was there that day, yes." Sumner glanced at Matt who returned his gaze.

"You saw him earn the Medal of Honor?"

"Yes. During a surprise attack by North Vietnamese forces, Matthew O'Hara jumped into an empty Army Cobra attack helicopter and helped us hold Hué against vastly overwhelming odds."

"The Colonel's a hero." the prosecutor said, and Harm tensed. 'Why was Pfeiffer building up Matt?' Mac saw Harm tense and she couldn't blame him because she felt a similar knot forming in her stomach. 'Where was Pfeiffer going with this?'

"Only on that day." Sumner responded bluntly.

The courtroom murmurs started. Mac threw a confused look to Harm who returned it. She turned to Uncle Matt but saw he was still busy glaring at Sumner.

"What do you mean, Colonel?" the prosecutor asked.

Sumner didn't avert his eyes from Matt's. "Because I also saw Matthew O'Hara leave six Marines behind to die."

Cries of surprise ripped through the courtroom as Mac turned to her uncle in disbelief. She searched his face for an answer but none came - his face was an unreadable mask.

"Objection!" Harm shouted, but the noise of a startled courtroom drowned him out. Judge Larabee pounded his gavel, calling for a restoration of order that was not going to come.

oxoxoxo

1500 ZULU  
MARINE BARRACKS WASHINGTON  
8TH & I, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Brigadier General Thompson B. Larabee glared at the three attorneys standing before him in his chambers. He had called this meeting after Colonel Sumner's testimony had forced him to clear the court.

The bombshell the prosecution's witness had dropped was frankly of the atomic variety - Colonel Gabriel Sumner testified that Matt O'Hara had committed the greatest sin known in the Marine Corps.

He had deserted his men in battle. He had left Marines behind to die.

"What the hell was that, Colonel?" the General yelled at the prosecutor Lt. Col. Jeff Pfeiffer.

To his credit, Pfeiffer didn't flinch at the General's raised voice. "Sir, I have no idea Colonel Sumner was going to say that, sir."

"Then it was a very well rehearsed spontaneous accusation, Colonel." Harm said, drawing the General's withering gaze.

"You aren't doing any better Commander so I would watch your tone if I were you." the General warned. "If this is what JAG has come to I'm wondering if I should call up your COs to argue this case or for them to send you back to law school."

Mac had been quiet, trying to curb her anger since her former CO at 8th and I had accused her uncle of cowardice and desertion in a time of war - a crime that carried with it the death penalty.

Finally successful, she spoke clearly and calmly. "Sir, seeing as the accusation established by the prosecution has no bearing on the current case, I move we strike Colonel Sumner's testimony from the record."

"Your honor, it was a question about Colonel O'Hara's character. Colonel Sumner answered the question."

"It was character assassination!" Mac growled.

"...designed to provoke the jury into seeing our client in a negative light." Harm added, providing a calm argument to back Mac up.

"Additionally we have not had the opportunity to interview Colonel Sumner about his testimony so this is a blindside by the prosecution, sir." Mac added on to Harm's add on - providing Lt. Col. Pfeiffer a taste of the soon to be famous MacKenzie-Rabb 1-2 punch.

"They had time to prepare. Colonel Sumner was listed in the witness list..." Col. Pfeiffer started to protest.

"In addition to twenty other Marines who have not made themselves available for questioning." Harm continued the 1-2 combo.

As each argument was raised, so were their voices until it was a near indecipherable stream of loud, angry words. The General had enough.

"Are you all quite done?" he barked angrily at the three attorneys squabbling like children.

"Sir, we..." Harm began only to be shut down by the General's glare.

"Are you done?"

"Yes sir." Harm answered.

General Larabee turned to Pfeiffer. "Colonel, you will make all witnesses defense counsel wants to interview available without any excuses or delays. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

He addressed all of them, "And I'm not going to tolerate anymore Perry Mason crap out there. No surprise witnesses, no suddenly discovered evidence. When the three of you come back in tomorrow, I expect to hear arguments that directly concern this case."

"Yes sir." all three replied in unison.

General Larabee pointed to the two male attorneys, "And if you two don't stop slinging mud all over the Marines, so help me God, I'll make sure that your next duty stop will be moving things much nastier than mud. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir!" both men said.

"Now get out."

oxoxoxo

Outside the judge's chambers, Lt. Col. Jeff Pfeiffer approached the two Falls Church JAGs.

"Commander, Major. I apologize for what happened in court today. Colonel Sumner was only there to provide testimony to Colonel O'Hara's behavior in Vietnam."

"Well you got a bonus then."

"No Major, I didn't. He blindsided me as much as everyone else. He told me that Colonel O'Hara had a tendency to bend rules whenever he saw fit. Granted when it worked out, your uncle looked like a genius, but his behavior is hardly becoming of a Marine, especially one held in such high regard. That was what he was going to say."

"Obviously he found something better to say." Mac seethed but the Lt. Col. was still a superior so she could hardly let loose holy hell on him.

"Did Colonel Sumner provide any evidence to his claims?" Harm asked.

"No. But I suspect that was where he was going next."

"Assuming he has evidence."

"Major, you've worked with the Colonel. Is he a man likely to say anything without proof?"

Mac's mood darkened further. Pfeiffer was right, Gabriel Sumner was a lot of things, but he wasn't a liar. Damn!

"When can we see Colonel Sumner?" Harm asked.

"I'll arrange it, ASAP." Pfeiffer replied, and they knew he would.

oxoxoxo

The Marine honor guards went through their practices once more in the courtyard, seeking perfection to improve their already impressive routine. Colonel Sumner watched them from a distance, before he turned to the two JAGs defending Col. O'Hara now walking beside him.

"I suppose you want to know why I came forward with this now." he said. It wasn't a question.

Seeing Mac's face darken, Harm decided unless he wanted to attend Mac's court-martial for attacking a superior officer, he'd have to be the buffer between the two Marines.

"That's one of the main questions, Colonel." Harm said coolly. "After all, its been 25 years since the Colonel won the Medal of Honor. Why not then?"

"Because he didn't have his own private army back then, Commander. He didn't have young Marines idolizing him so much that he could lead them into battle."

"That doesn't mean he's dangerous." Mac said prompting Sumner to glance over at her.

"He's already stolen the Declaration of Independence once. I think he's proven what he's capable of."

"The militia is disbanded and is no longer a problem." Harm said.

"For now." Sumner stopped and turned to look both JAGs in the eye, "How long before he decides to act again? And what happens if he doesn't have a change of heart next time?"

"So your accusation is just a tactic to discredit the Colonel?" Mac growled.

"Mac." Harm said in a low tone, drawing enough of her attention with the way he said it to remind her hostility wasn't the best course of action right now.

Sumner responded. "Major MacKenzie. I understand where your loyalties lie, but remember you have pledged a greater allegiance to the flag and service than you have to your uncle. I hope you remember that."

The withering death glare she gave the Colonel could have started forest fires. Harm quickly stepped in to diffuse the mounting tension. "Colonel Sumner, how are you privy to this information?"

"Do you think I made all this up?"

"No one else has come forward." Harm said.

"Because they can't. He left them to die remember?"

"Then how do you know what happened?"

"Because Commander, I was one of them."

oxoxoxo

1730 ZULU  
BRIG, MARINE CORPS BASE  
QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

Harm and Mac stood up when Uncle Matt was brought into the interrogation room and once the guards left the lawyers alone to confer with their client, Mac went against protocol and hugged her uncle. Finally they took their seats on opposite sides of the table.

"As nice as that is, Sarah, I'm guessing this isn't a social call." Matt said dryly and was rewarded by his niece's steely glare. He knew that glare anywhere - it meant trouble. "Wow, that bad, huh, Sarah?"

She sighed, "Uncle Matt, why didn't you tell us?"

"What is there to tell? I didn't leave any Marines behind. Believe me I would remember if I did."

"I do believe you, Uncle Matt. But it's not enough if only I do."

Harm heard the softening of her tone and was surprised by it. Sarah MacKenzie, the tough Marine, the kickass jarhead, sounded almost fragile. Sounded almost defeated.

Matt heard the tone too and tried to comfort his niece. He reached over the table to give her hand a squeeze. When she didn't squeeze back, Matt turned to the Navy Commander seated beside her.

"Commander, what are our chances for tomorrow?"

"It depends on whether we can get Colonel Sumner's testimony thrown out." Harm glanced at Mac and even though he wanted to sugarcoat the truth, he knew she had probably thought of his next thought too. "But even if we did throw out what he said, the jury might already be affected."

Matt looked at the both of them, "If they're biased, wouldn't we get new jurors?"

"Not in a court-martial, Uncle Matt." Mac said quietly.

"So what do we do?" the Colonel asked.

Harm and Mac shared a quick look before the Navy lawyer spoke, "Tell us about Operation Shadowhand."

Matt girded himself - obviously he remembered the operation, and not too fondly. It was almost thirty years later and still the name of the op sounded like nails across the chalkboard to him.

"Shadowhand was an aborted CIA operation. We were asked to insert six of our best sharpshooting teams deep into enemy territory, in North Vietnam. They shared one target - the leader of the North Vietnamese forces."

"General Ho Chi Minh?" Mac said, up on her history, but not up on the truth.

"No. Ho Chi Minh was just a figurehead at the time. He'd been sick for awhile, in fact, he passed away pretty soon after the operation got under way. He wasn't the target. The real target was his successor - a man called Le Duan. He'd been running the North Vietnamese campaign since the early 60s, and he was the man behind the North's aggressive stance against us. His death would have left a power vacuum and it would have allowed our South Vietnamese allies to capitalize."

"What happened next?" Harm asked, drawn into the story.

"What usually happens, the CIA got cold feet. Someone mentioned the Bay of Pigs and they pulled out. Problem was, we already began the insertions. Now we had to get them all out. And we did."

"Not according to Sumner. He claims you left him and his unit behind." Harm reported.

"Then he's lying." Matt said plainly. "Or I was lied to."

The revelation left each of them deep in thought, stretching out the silence. Until it was broken by Matt, "So where does that leave us?"

Harm exhaled noisily and glanced at his partner. She shared the same worried expression he had on. Harm answered, "Like it or not, we need to find evidence that proves you didn't abandon anyone in Vietnam, enough to make sure the jury knows you didn't."

"And how are you going to do that?" Col. O'Hara asked both of them.

Harm and Mac shared another look, but this time no answer came.

oxoxoxo

1900 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Harm and Mac stood ramrod straight before their CO who was already wearing a hole in his carpet with all his pacing. He was positively livid with the developments of the case.

"At ease." he barked and the two senior JAGs relaxed their form - if not their expressions.

"I've been summoned by both the SecNav and the Commandant of the Marine Corps because they want to know what the hell is going on with this trial? Yesterday a Marine General was accused of fraternization. Today, we've got a Marine hero accused of abandoning his men?"

"Sir, Colonel O'Hara is a Marine. He would not leave a man behind." Mac said, braving the Admiral's fury to defend her uncle. "There must be a mistake."

A.J. looked at the Marine Major and his tone quietened, though it still held a definite edge. "I sure hope so, Major, because if the Colonel is guilty..."

He paced to his window and stared out the view. "SecNav is thinking of adding back the treason charge..."

"Sir!" Mac yelped in surprise but Chegwidden stilled her with a glare.

"I'm not saying that it's already done, Major. There will need to be an investigation first."

"Sir I volunteer..." Mac started, but A.J. cut her off again.

"Unfortunately Major, I don't think the SecNav will sign off on that. He'll think you'll find something to hide. Even if there was nothing."

Mac seethed, she was powerless. Her uncle needed her most and she was powerless.

"Then let me investigate, sir." Harm said clearly and Mac stared up at him in surprise.

A.J. turned to him. "And how is that better? You're the Colonel's defense attorney. You've got as much to gain from concealing evidence."

"I believe in finding the truth sir. My track record bares that out."

"That may be, Commander, but I don't think SecNav will approve of you either. So denied."

"Sir." Harm started, but Mac shook her head at him, telling him not to fight too hard. She said, "I'm sure whoever you pick to lead the investigation sir, will be thorough and fair."

"I've not decided if I even want to do that, Major."

That surprised Mac, "Why not sir? They'll find nothing."

A.J. stared at her quietly and his doubt was written all over his face.

"You're not sure, are you sir? You don't believe my uncle's innocent." Mac was stunned.

"We all have something to hide from that war, Major. Things that we've done that we're not proud of."

"Are you calling my uncle a coward?!"

"Mac." Harm recognized that Mount MacKenzie was starting to smoke and he tried to get ahead of her rage. He didn't have to as A.J. was already ahead of him - his cold steely tone dousing her fury like ice water.

"No, Major, but it doesn't mean we didn't get scared at times. In fact, that's probably what kept us alive."

Mac heard his words - 'us' and 'we'. Mac saw the Navy SEAL crest on the Admiral's chest - and recalled that her CO was a Navy SEAL during that same war. He spoke from experience and was talking about himself as much as he was talking about her uncle.

"I understand sir. I apologize for my outburst, sir."

"Just be sure not to make it a habit, Major. That'll be all."

"Sir!" she snapped to attention and spun round to leave. A.J. stopped Harm from immediately following. "Commander, a word."

Once Mac had closed the door behind her, Harm saw his COs normally neutral facade pull into a worried expression that he had never seen before.

"Have you spoken to your client about his actions in question?"

"Yes sir."

"And what did he say?"

"He denied it sir."

"Do you believe him?"

"I do, sir. From what I've seen of the Colonel, there's no way he would have left anyone behind."

"The man he is now may not have been the man he was back then, Commander." A.J. sighed and Harm wondered what atrocities the former Navy SEAL had witnessed in his time in country to still haunt the man he was today.

"Commander, keep the Major as far away from this mess as you can. I'm not prepared to lose a JAG officer over this."

"Yes sir."

"Dismissed."

"Aye sir." Harm said before exiting.

A.J. sat back behind his desk and picked up the phone. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation with the SecNav. Then again, it never was.

oxoxoxo

Harm found Mac in her office, packing up her briefcase.

"Hey Marine, isn't it a little too early to knock off work?"

Her death glare told him she was not in the mood for his jokes or banter. Harm stepped into her office and shut the door. "Mac..."

"What do you want, Harm?"

"I want you to calm down."

"They've accused my uncle of treason and you want me to calm down?!" she yelled at him.

Harm noticed they were getting odd looks from the bullpen - and Mac being so visibly upset was not something the bullpen needed to witness. He shut the blinds providing a modicum of privacy before turning back to Mac.

"Mac, you know I'm not going to let anything happen to the Colonel."

"Then help me, Harm."

"I can't."

"Or you won't?" pure anger flashed in her eyes and he could feel it burn.

"Mac."

"No Harm, I get it. I won't ask you to risk your career."

She moved towards the door but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"Let go, Harm." she tried to pull her arm away but he kept hold of it.

"Not until you promise you won't do something impulsive."

"I'm not the impulsive one, Harm. I'm going to find a way to clear Uncle Matt's name."

"Damn it Mac, the Admiral asked me to keep you away from this."

"I'll let him know you had nothing to do with it." she pulled away again. Again he resisted.

"Mac, we're a team. Rabb-MacKenzie, remember? If you go, I go."

She was temporarily stunned by his offer. She wasn't surprised that he would break the rules, but she was surprised that he would break the rules for her.

"Harm..."

"If I can't stop you, I'll have to watch your six, won't I?"

"You don't have to..."

"I know."

And that broke her resistance. Her features softened as she stared into his eyes, her own eyes shining brightly with gratitude. He looked into those warm brown pools and almost drowned in them. He finally released her arm.

With a smile forming on her face, she threw open the door and walked out. But not before she cast a sly look back to remind him, "And it's MacKenzie-Rabb, flyboy."

Harm couldn't help but smile back as he followed her out the door.

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**


	8. Ep 05: People v O'Hara (Part 3)

**AN:** And the final part of my original episode. I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

**Episode 5:  
**People v. O'Hara (Part 3)

2100 ZULU  
WASHINGTON, D.C.

When Harm said he had a contact that could help them, _he_ was the last person she expected Harm to rely on. When she saw the fancy little man approach she wanted to deck him - even his walk annoyed her, but not as much as his name.

"Webb." Mac said, spitting out the name like day old gum.

They were standing in an indoor parking structure - one of many dozens that littered the city, and one that offered enough gloom and privacy for them to talk without being seen or heard.

"Nice to meet you too, Major. What's she doing here?" The man known as Clayton Webb turned to Harm, and though his normal face seemed incapable of any expression other than dissatisfaction, he actually looked more put out than usual.

"Just be glad she didn't bring a gun, Clay. We need you to find..."

"Not so fast, Rabb. This isn't exactly a charity."

"You want a bribe?" Mac asked incredulously.

"Don't be obtuse, Major. We're talking about trade."

Mac stared at Harm confused about his meaning. Harm's answer cleared it up. "I'll owe you one."

"I might collect on that sooner than you think, Rabb. What do you need?"

Mac put her hand on her partner's arm, "Wait, Harm. Are you sure you want to deal with Webb?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Mac."

"I'm standing right here." Clay complained.

She glared at him to shut the hell up. He wisely understood her look and obeyed it.

Harm pressed on, "I need you to find everything you can about Operation Shadowhand."

Clay stared at Harm, "Shadowhand?"

"Specifically the names of the sniper team that didn't come back. And their helo pilot who was supposed to get them out. We don't have much time, Clay."

"I'll see what I can do." Clay said, his pinched face looking as displeased as ever.

"You better do more than that." Mac said, not bothering to hide the implied threat in her tone.

"You know Major, a thank you would go a long way." he said, trying to stand up to her.

"And if you hadn't set my uncle up to steal the Declaration of Independence, we wouldn't be here."

Clay tried to hold her gaze, but after a couple of seconds he caved like a house of cards, "I'll do my best."

"Good." she said with the same mirthless tone.

"You're welcome?" he ventured.

"Don't push your luck." she fired back.

Finding the sudden urge to be anywhere but there, Clay quickly slunk back into the shadows and soon faded from view.

"I don't like him, Harm."

"He's a useful tool, Mac. It's not like you're gonna date him."

Mac snorted in disgust at the thought, "Thank God for that. And you're right, he is a tool."

oxoxoxo

1200 ZULU  
LUCKY 7 MOTEL,  
WASHINGTON, D.C.

The SWAT team van pulled in behind several police cars - all had their sirens off - they didn't want to alert anyone to their presence. The SWAT team commander walked over to Kamala who stood with the police detectives.

"Room two-one-seven." Kamala said and the commander nodded. With rapid hand signals, he ordered his team to move out. Taking the stairs quietly, they made their way to room 217. Outside the door, the SWAT team leader announced their presence. "D.C. Police! Lewis Granger come out with your hands up!"

They waited on a response. None came. On a silent count, they kicked in the door and stormed the room, their firearms ready for action.

The room was empty. A quick check of the adjoining bathroom also revealed it empty. Lewis Granger was gone.

oxoxoxo

Clean shaven and dressed in his Marine uniform, Sergeant Lewis Granger stepped off the bus after a couple of 10-year olds who gave him a playful salute before running away. He barely noticed them as his eyes were too busy searching the street signs for his location.

He was on the corner of 8th and I street, and Marine Barracks Washington lay before him.

Protesters supporting Colonel O'Hara were gathering for today's protest march, with numerous signs showing their love and support for 'Hero O'Hara'.

Granger's thin lips peeled back into a wolfish grin and he began walking past the picketers, ignoring them as much as they ignored him. There was a skip in his step as he started whistling the Marine Corps hymn.

oxoxoxo

1300 ZULU  
MARINE BARRACKS WASHINGTON  
8TH & I, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Two Marine guards manned the entrance, preventing unauthorized access into the now rather empty courtroom.

Colonel Gabriel Sumner was on the stand again, looking as calm as ever. He eyed the prosecutor Lt. Col. Jeff Pfeiffer who was surprisingly brief before he announced, "The prosecution doesn't have any further questions at this time, your honor."

Sumner knew that the real battle today would be waged between him and Colonel O'Hara's defense team and readied himself for the impending cross-examination. He locked eyes with the lead attorney for the defense - Harmon Rabb, and was surprised to find the man look back with a relaxed smile on his face.

When the defense's other attorney rose, Sumner realized his mistake. His opponent wasn't going to be the Navy aviator. His opponent was the Marine seated to Rabb's left - the woman who had once served under his own command - Major Sarah MacKenzie.

"Colonel Sumner. Yesterday, you testified that Colonel O'Hara abandoned six Marines. Can you elaborate on the circumstances surrounding the incident in question?" Mac asked, her voice solid as steel though neither cold nor hard. It was just that - solid.

"It was during a covert operation. The Colonel was tasked with extracting us from enemy territory."

"A covert operation?" she asked turning to face him. "What covert operation, Colonel?"

Colonel Sumner had never witnessed the Major in action in the courtroom before but he found it... intriguing. It wasn't flashy or spectacular, but he found himself compelled to speak more than he should.

"Operation Shadowhand. It was a plot to assassinate the then leader of the North Vietnamese communist forces."

"And what was your role in the... daring operation?"

Again, her tone irked him into response. It wasn't that she was dismissive or condescending. No, try as he might to detect even a hint of sardonicism in her tone, he couldn't. She sounded sincere.

"I was a spotter."

"A spotter?"

"I'm the one who tells the sniper when and where to take the shot."

"So you were the eyes of the unit?" she asked and Sumner was starting to get pissed off at her.

"Yes." Sumner answered with more than a hint of impatience.

"So what you see is what the team sees?"

"Yes!" he answered more forcefully.

"And if you see wrong?"

"What?" Sumner reeled, blindsided by the sudden gut check question.

"What if you see wrong, Colonel? What happens if you make a mistake?" she asked, her tone steady and calm, almost like she was stating a basic fact - water was wet, air was necessary and he had made a mistake.

And Sumner finally realized what she was doing. No wonder her former CO, Captain Gonzo Walls had recommended her information gathering skills so highly. The Major used her beauty and words like a carrot and stick in alternating patterns - Reward with a flattering look, punish with a harsh word. Kill with a stern glare, lead on with a coy tone. Push and pull in ever shifting patterns.

A smile curled his lips when he realized her game. "I didn't make a mistake, Major. I saw O'Hara take off and leave us behind."

"That wasn't the question I asked, Colonel." she said and Sumner was taken aback once more. He had been careless and walked into that one. Damn.

Harm admired Mac's style of attacking the Colonel on the stand. She had a style unlike any other attorney he had seen before - and well, he admitted maybe it was because he hadn't really studied other attorneys the way he did her.

She fought like a championship boxer, but instead of fists she used words that ducked and weaved around the Colonel's defenses, unsettling him with their unexpected delivery, making him reel under their punch.

He glanced at Judge Larabee and was pleased that the General had similarly fallen under Mac's spell. The questions she was asking weren't directly related to the case and he was allowing her all the leeway she craved. Harm hoped they wouldn't catch on too quickly either.

They were stalling for time until Clay could get back with the information about Shadowhand. Clay swore that he would have it here by now, but... well, he didn't seem to be the type who lived up to his word all too often.

Harm felt his cellphone vibrate in his pocket. A quick glance at the caller ID revealed it was the Special Assistant to the Undersecretary of State.

Moving quickly he exited without undue attention. He knew Mac could hold down the fort but he also knew she couldn't go on like that forever. Mac was good, but she was still fighting armed with only bullshit and spit right now. He had to find her the truth because when he did, she could then unleash armageddon on Colonel Sumner.

oxoxoxo

Clayton Webb stood in the deep shadows cast by the large pillars that towered over him. It was a conscious decision, even a preference as the 'man from State' found out very early in childhood. Perhaps it was because of his early childhood.

He was a creature of shadows and the man he was here to meet was his extreme contrast, the same man rushing out of the large Marine Corps building right now with his phone pressed tightly to his ear. "I'm here. Where are you?" the tall Naval Aviator asked, eyes darting around in the early spring sunlight.

"Where do you think? Turn around." Webb said quietly into his own phone and hung up.

Harm whirled around and saw Clay standing against the wall, the false darkness cast by the large pillars around him hid his features completely, but his silhouette was a dead giveaway. Harm approached quickly and spoke to him directly.

"You're late."

"Ironic coming from you." Webb hissed.

Harm ignored the jibe. "Do you have it?" he asked impatiently.

"You know how to pick your battles don't you? Shadowhand almost got my security clearance revoked." Clay complained, as he always did.

"So you got nothing?" Harm glared at the shorter man.

"No, I got plenty. But I can't share most of it."

"Clay..." Harm didn't have time for the spook's cryptic games.

"Sumner was there. And so was O'Hara."

And Harm's mood darkened instantly.

oxoxoxo

Mac turned to Sumner, "How can you be sure that it was Colonel O'Hara and not some other Huey pilot?"

"There are things burned into your brain, things you can't forget even if you wanted to. His face is one of those things." Sumner said with barely disguised vitriol.

"Do you have any physical evidence to place the Colonel at the scene?" Mac asked with a calm she didn't feel.

"No."

"I see, so this is based entirely on your word?" she could barely keep the smirk out of her voice.

"No."

That stunned her. She regrouped quickly "But..."

"I don't have physical evidence to place the Colonel at the scene." Sumner turned to the jurors. "But I do have the testimony of the one other Marine who survived."

oxoxoxo

Webb spoke quickly, "There is another Marine."

"What? Who?"

"Sergeant Lewis Granger. He made it out of Hanoi after the war."

"After the war? How long was he there?"

"Granger was held as a POW for 7 years, before we found him and convinced the North Vietnamese to release him." Webb said, and he couldn't keep the uneasiness out of his voice.

Harm noticed it, "What aren't you telling me, Clay?"

"Granger is not the same man he used to be."

"What are you saying?"

"Until a few days ago, Lewis Granger was a long term resident of the St. Elizabeth's Psychiatric Hospital."

"He's crazy?"

"Worse, he's pathologically insane. And he's highly motivated."

At Harm's questioning gaze, Clay divulged more.

"He's hellbent on seeking revenge on those who let him get captured by the Viet Cong. And Rabb, he's dangerous. He killed four guards during his escape."

"Where is he now?" Harm asked.

"We don't know. But if he's after O'Hara, you can bet he's here."

Panic flashed in Harm's eyes. "Damn it, Clay, we've got to get the Colonel to safety! Get security to lock down the base!" Harm shouted as he ran back inside the building. "And for godsakes get them a picture of what Granger looks like!"

oxoxoxo

Mac stared down Sumner, "Why now? Why come forward now?"

"Because..." Sumner started to answer, but was cut short by a quiet,

"Objection."

Mac turned to Jeff Pfeiffer who gave her a knowing gaze. He had given her all the leeway she wanted before, but the time wasting was over. "Your honor, as fascinating as all this is, we've seemed to have strayed from our current case."

Mac's spell on General Larabee was broken and he blinked his eyes clear. "Yes, Major MacKenzie, do you have any questions relating to this current charge?"

"Your honor, if you may give me some leeway..."

"How much more, your honor?" Jeff said, drawing a hateful glare from Mac.

"I'm afraid the prosecution is right, Major. Move on."

Mac stared at the courtroom doors, Harm still wasn't back. She tried to appeal to the General again, "Your honor..."

"I said move on." General Larabee didn't raise his voice but there was no mistaking the displeasure in it.

"Yes sir..." Mac took a deep breath and turned to Sumner...

When the courtroom doors burst open and Harm came rushing in with two Marine guards. "Your honor, we seek a continuance!"

"What is the meaning of this, Commander?" General Larabee growled.

"Harm?" Mac looked at her JAG partner who must have run all the way back to court. Harm waved their confused client to stand up. O'Hara did as he was told.

"We need to get him out of here." Harm told Mac, but loudly enough for the court to hear it.

"What? Why?" Mac asked.

Lt. Col. Pfeiffer began to protest, but General Larabee was already on top of it. "Commander explain yourself!"

"Your honor, I've just been informed that someone is out to assassinate my client."

"Objection, your honor. This is an outrageous stalling tactic by the defense." Pfeiffer exclaimed.

"Your honor, I have reason to believe that a Sergeant Lewis Granger is on base."

"Lewis is here?" Sumner said and there was no mistaking the pure unadulterated terror on his face.

"Yes, he escaped from a mental facility recently. Your honor, he's a Marine sniper and we believe he has set his sights on Colonel O'Hara."

Matt protested his innocence, "But why would he want with me? I did nothing to him. I don't even know who he is."

Mac went to him, "But does he know that, Uncle Matt? He's mentally unstable."

Judge Larabee turned to Colonel Sumner. "How much danger is he in?"

Sumner looked back at the General. "Granger was one of our best, sir. Fifty-two kills, no misses."

Convinced, Larabee made his decision. "In that case, I will call a recess until the Sergeant is found. Adjourned."

The Marine guards quickly moved to secure Col. O'Hara and led everyone in the courtroom down the stairs to the back emergency exit. With so many armed Marines escorting them, other personnel were forced to duck into offices or press themselves against the wall to let them by.

Harm was right alongside Mac and her uncle when his cellphone started ringing. He fell back to fish out the device and answered.

"Clay?"

oxoxoxo

Armed Marines searched every nook and cranny on the base, including the rooftops. Clay took it all in from the shadows as he talked on his cellphone.

"Rabb. We've searched every square inch of the complex. It's clear. When are you guys coming out?"

Harm stepped through the wide back entrance doorway to the loading area where Matt's prison transport and numerous other Marine vehicles were waiting. Armed Marines surrounded the perimeter, scanning for any threat. "We're already outside."

"What? Where?"

"The back entrance."

"Shit!" Clay cursed as he began running towards the nearest Marine guard.

"You didn't sweep the back?" Harm asked incredulously.

"No, we swept the base. We just didn't look at the surrounding buildings!" Clay yelled.

oxoxoxo

Harm looked up from his phone to scan the neighboring buildings that towered over them. He called out to "Mac!" as he struggled through the crowd towards Mac and her uncle. "Mac!" he called again but in the overwhelming chaos, she didn't hear him.

oxoxoxo

On the rooftop of a nearby apartment building, Granger lay flat on the ground underneath his ghillie suit which blended seamlessly with his surroundings. He was almost invisible.

Granger looked through the sniper scope and surveyed the scene below. They were out earlier than he expected but all the important Marines were there - a General, Colonels, a Major... He centered around Matthew O'Hara, trigger finger ready. Granger squinted and frowned. No, that was the wrong target... the wrong Colonel. He searched the crowd once more and found the right target.

"Mac!" Harm yelled, drawing Mac's attention. And a gunshot rang out, silencing all!

Everyone dove for cover. As everyone hit the ground, screams and shouts filled the air. When she saw her uncle in his crisp uniform flat on the ground, Mac panicked.

"Uncle Matt!" she crawled towards him and turned him over. "Uncle Matt?"

Matt was fine, a bit dazed but unscathed. "Sarah, are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes." relief filled her. Then she remembered her partner. She looked around, "Harm?"

She couldn't see him anywhere. Panic gripped her tighter when another scream flew. Mac looked up and saw Colonel Gabriel Sumner slumped against the steps, a widening circle of blood seeping from his chest.

Harm was at Sumner's side, hauling him to safety as another shot rang out. The bullet whizzed by Harm and hit the plaster above him, causing it to fall on them as Harm dragged the dying Colonel to safety. With uncle Matt safely hauled off into the prison transport truck, Mac ran towards her partner. Nearby a Marine guard was hit by a sniper shot, but his kevlar vest saved his life. Mac made it back inside safely.

Inside the Marine building, Mac crouched over her former CO. Even with Harm trying to stem the bleeding, Sumner was fading fast. Gabriel turned his eyes to the Marine Major, and gurgled trying to say something. She leaned in.

"Colonel?"

"Safe. 6-3-4-1-1." Sumner almost choked out the combination. "I'm... sorry."

"Colonel!"

But he was gone.

oxoxoxo

A Marine force stormed the building rooftop and found Lewis Granger standing there to greet them, his hands already up in surrender. An exhausted Clayton Webb huffed and puffed his way up the stairs and finally caught up with the Marines.

"On your knees!" the Marine unit leader ordered Granger, his MP5 machine gun aimed squarely at the former Marine sniper.

Lewis smiled serenely, "Sumner has paid for his betrayal. Mission complete."

And he stepped off the side of the building into mid-air. Gravity did the rest.

oxoxoxo

1400 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

ZNN news dominated the overhead TV screens as JAG personnel crowded around them, watching with uncommon interest. Even Admiral A.J. Chegwidden was similarly drawn, though he watched the coverage on the TV inside his room.

"... a crazed gunman took the life of Marine Colonel Gabriel Sumner, the commander of Marine Barracks Washington, before taking his own life..."

oxoxoxo

MARINE BARRACKS WASHINGTON,  
8TH & I, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Mac stood before the court and read the letter they had found in Colonel Sumner's safe. It was a confession, a shame he had carried with him for almost 30 years. Since Operation Shadowhand.

"I betrayed my unit with my cowardice. I have built my career on lies and I have profited from that deceit. I am no Marine because I committed the ultimate sin - I left my brothers in arms behind to be captured, to be tortured, to die."

"I gave away our position when I ran. I hid for days, weeks it seemed like and when I found a Huey transport, I stabbed myself with a pitchfork and dragged myself to the helo. I pretended to be a POW escapee. I was treated like a hero. I was a coward."

"The physical wound got me back home. But then the medals and commendations came and suddenly I couldn't speak the truth, couldn't hide in obscurity. So I embraced it all and became the Marine the world thought I was, my one sin forgotten, laid to rest with the men who had died because of it."

"And then Granger survived. And he started talking about Shadowhand and how a Marine had betrayed them."

"Granger was addled, but he remembered enough to be a threat. He remembered me though not my actions. Not for lack of trying, the man was obsessed with finding the truth. And the more he tried, the more he remembered, the closer he got."

"O'Hara was a convenient scapegoat. Granger remembered him, so what was one more crime to lay at the Colonel's feet - the thief of the Declaration of Independence? And what more fitting irony? I, a traitor elevated to a hero, while a true hero was branded a traitor."

"If anyone is reading this, then it must mean I have finally paid for my sins. And as much as I know that I shall be reviled, I am glad. For I am finally free."

"Signed, Gabriel Sumner."

Mac folded the letter and handed it to Judge Larabee before returning to her seat behind the defense table. She looked sadly at her uncle and squeezed his hand in support.

Larabee turned to the six jurors and addressed them, "I understand that this has been a most unusual court-martial. However, let me reiterate that with Colonel Sumner's signed confession, it recants his previous testimony. He lied on this stand, so do not allow his words to hold any sway over your decision. That being said..."

He turned to Harm and Mac, "... is the defense ready to proceed?"

oxoxoxo

Harm was about to answer Judge Larabee when Matt stopped him, "Commander, put me on the stand."

"Uncle Matt?" Mac asked, confused.

"Put me on the stand Sarah. I want to speak for myself."

Harm and Mac shared a look. She didn't want him to. He didn't want him to either, but they also wanted to support Matt. At her small nod of acceptance, Harm stood up to announce, "The defense calls Colonel Matthew O'Hara to the stand."

Matt stood up, aware of the eyes of the entire court on him. He placed his right hand on the bible and took the oath. And he proceeded to speak from the heart.

"What we witnessed yesterday was about past sins coming back to haunt us. And I can say for certain that I have sinned, in times of war, and in the times when I have failed to protect my country and my family."

"Taking the Declaration of Independence wasn't just a failure. It was a betrayal of the trust of the American people, the Marine Corps, and everyone who ever placed their hope and belief in me. I betrayed them by taking from them the foundation of our country in the hopes of building a better society in our current time."

Matt took a steadying breath and continued, "But without our heritage, without the words of our founding fathers, the America that we would have created with my actions would have been devastatingly short sighted. A future where an armed militia can dictate policy and the direction of our country is not what our country needs."

"As a nation we are hurting from the wounds inflicted upon us by decades of war both on foreign soil as well as from domestic ills. We have wars on drugs, wars on crime, wars on poverty - and we're not doing any better against them than we did when we first fought them 30 years ago."

"We are hurting, because as a nation instead of facing up to our responsibilities, we run, hide and shirk our duties. It is because we choose the easy way to change things that we lose sight of what we are hoping to achieve."

"The easy way is rarely the right way. As a Marine, and as a man who took up the oath to protect our country from all threats, at home or abroad, I should have known that, and I should have done the right thing, instead of the easy thing."

Matt turned to look at his niece. "I'm sorry Sarah."

"Uncle Matt." she breathed back as she saw her uncle turn to the judge.

"Your honor, I wish to change my plea to guilty, and take full responsibilities for my actions." Matt said with a steady voice.

Surprised at the turn of events, General Larabee turned to the lawyers in front of him. "Are there any objections?"

Mac stared at Matt who shook his head 'no'. Harm saw the exchange and turned to Mac. She said quietly but firmly, "None your honor."

The prosecutor echoed, "None your honor."

Larabee nodded and announced, "Then in the case of the People versus Colonel Matthew O'Hara, a plea of guilty has been entered. We will reconvene tomorrow for sentencing. Court is adjourned."

And with a single rap of the gavel it was over.

As the judge and jury filed out of the courtroom, Mac rushed to hug Uncle Matt, her tears already starting to form in her eyes. She tried to say something but the words wouldn't come.

His though did. "It's better this way Sarah. What I did was wrong, no matter how right the reason was." Matt cupped her face before the Marine guards took him into custody. Mac walked with them as Matt was led out of the room.

Harm approached the prosecutor, Lt. Col. Jeff Pfeiffer. "Congratulations, Colonel." he said, though he offered no handshake.

"There are no winners here today, Commander." Jeff said sadly. He took no joy in this victory.

Harm nodded, "Do you think Colonel O'Hara could get a lighter sentence, considering his age and his years of service?"

Jeff looked up at the tall commander, and the pained look on his face relaxed. "Commander, it would be my honor to help you try."

And the two men shook on the deal.

* * *

**Next Episode: **Trinity (2x06)

**AN:** In regards to Matt O'Hara's legacy in Vietnam, just to clarify in case anybody missed it - Matt O'Hara did not leave 6 Marines to die in Vietnam. He was the hero Mac always knew he was.


	9. Ep 06: Trinity (Part 1)

**AN:** Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, faved and followed this series so far. I appreciate knowing that you get some enjoyment reading this story and hopefully are having as much fun as I'm having.

Writing this ep actually was a little tough for me because of two factors: 1 - when I originally wrote this ep, it had 2 scenes total, and 2 - it's not one of my favorite episodes in the series, being kinda 'meh' to me. However, I tried my best to resolve the first issue by working on the 2nd issue - what would I have done different if I wrote this ep? Fingers crossed that it's still a decent ep :)

**Special shout out to:  
**ZeyNavyGirl's 'Once Upon A Time', possibly my current guiltiest pleasure. There's just something sweet and interesting reading about H&M meeting as teens. Write more. Write often. Write more often! :D

* * *

**Episode 6:  
**Trinity (Part 1)

1320 ZULU  
BETHESDA MEDICAL CENTER, MARYLAND

"Are you angry at your father?"

Lt. Cmdr. Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr. stared at Dr. Sandra Chang... or as the gold oak leaf on her collar revealed, Lt. Cmdr. Dr. Sandra Chang. He let her question hang for a moment.

They were in her office and Harm was only here because his CO, the JAG - Admiral A.J. Chegwidden had made it mandatory for him to go to therapy. Granted it was his own damn fault this had started, he didn't have to fire an automatic weapon in court in the first place...

"No. Why would I be angry at my father?" he said with almost unfeeling cool.

She made note of his calm, "Do you blame him for leaving you?"

"No, of course not." he replied impassively, his face revealing little, his voice revealing less. "He had no choice."

"That doesn't change the fact that he left you and your mother."

He stared right into her eyes, his tone and gaze hardening slightly, "He had no choice."

"Would you have loved him any less if he decided to quit the Navy and stayed behind instead?"

Harm didn't respond. He just held her gaze for the longest of moments until even Dr. Chang had to avert her eyes.

As his silence stretched out, she asked, "Are you not answering because you don't know?"

"My father was a hero. Is a hero." he said, and she noted that his tone had become positively chilly.

"I'm not saying he wasn't." she replied. "I'm just asking if you hated him for leaving. It's okay if you did."

Harm's facade finally cracked and he rose to his feet. He walked over to stare out her window. When he finally spoke again, his voice was soft, almost fragile. "How can I hate him? The Navy needed him. He had no choice."

"That justifies his actions. It doesn't reveal to me how you felt about it."

She saw how he clenched and unclenched his jaw, debating with himself to speak or to hold his tongue. His eyes were glazed over, somewhere far away, somewhere long ago. He looked deep within himself and was surprised to find the five-year old boy that he once was, standing in the doorway, waiting for his dad to come home again. Dr. Chang saw in his eyes the five-year old looking back out at the world.

And saw him disappear the minute the beeper on his belt buzzed. Harm glanced at it and his cool fighter jock exterior slid back into place, and Harmon Rabb Jr, both man and boy were no longer exposed.

"I've got to go." he said as he moved to the door.

"But we're almost done, Commander." she said seeing that they had another 5 minutes on the clock and she was so close to making a breakthrough.

"Sorry doc, but when an Admiral calls, you don't keep him waiting."

Harm grabbed his cover and walked out the door. Dr. Chang sighed her frustration. They were so close.

oxoxoxo

1400 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Harm walked into JAG ops and made a beeline towards the Admiral's office. The Admiral's yeoman, a babyface blonde with dimples for days, Petty Officer 2nd Class Jason Tiner, stood up to greet him.

"He's waiting inside sir." Tiner said, taking Harm's briefcase and cover from him.

"Thank you Tiner." Harm said absently as he knocked on the door, opened it and entered in one fluid motion.

Admiral Chegwidden looked up from his desk and saw the tardy Lt. Cmdr. he had summoned some time ago enter.

"Sorry I'm late sir." he apologized.

"Sleep in, Commander?" A.J. asked, his sardonic tone not lost on Harm.

"I was at Bethesda sir." Harm said, "On your orders."

A.J. remembered and his tone softened. "Ah yes. Have a seat Commander." he said as he waved Harm into one of the unoccupied chairs.

Harm sat down and looked at the other chair, where his JAG partner Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie was seated. She cast him a questioning gaze and he shook his head - he didn't want to talk about it.

Understanding, she handed him a piece of paper.

He glanced at it and then at Mac - it was a love poem. He looked at her with wide-eyed surprise and a hint of flattery, and it must have shown because she called him on it.

"Yeah, you wish." she said with a roll of her eyes. "It's not from me, it's the case. Read it."

Harm read it aloud.

"And from that time, through wildest woe,  
Hope has shone a far light,  
Nor could love's brightest summer glow,  
Outshine that solemn starlight,  
For this I hoped some day to aid,  
Oh, can such hope be vain?  
When my dear country shall be made,  
A nation once again."

"What do you think, Commander?" A.J. asked.

"It's a nice poem, sir." Harm answered non-commitally as he placed the poem on the Admiral's desk.

"It's from a popular Irish folk song, sir." Mac said, "A few lines from A Nation Once Again. It's about forsaking love for a higher cause, independence."

"Impressive, Major." A.J. genuinely marveled at her encyclopedic knowledge before returning to the case at hand. "Shortly after 0100 ZULU yesterday, an infant was taken from the naval base in Holy Loch, Scotland. This was apparently left by the kidnapper."

"Strange ransom note. Could it be a code?" Harm asked.

"Not very likely. We suspect the kidnapper was the baby's father. The baby's mother recognized the poem immediately as the same one he had written to her in one of his letters."

"He broke into a secure military base to steal his own child?" Harm asked, surprised.

"For an insertion team to break in and out, sir, he would have had to hire a private army." Mac added, similarly surprised.

"He didn't have to, Major. He's IRA. The Brits call him the Ghost."

"The Ghost sir?" Mac asked, stunned that the normally reserved Brits would coin such a colorful moniker for their enemy.

"According to them, they've already killed Lorcan Barnes four times. He just keeps finding a way to come back."

"Sir, I assume the baby's mother was a U.S. Naval officer." Harm said.

"She is." A.J. confirmed.

"And she married an IRA leader?"

"No, she stopped short of that, Commander." he handed them the woman's personnel file, "Lieutenant Linda Nevins, former naval attaché in London. Transfered to Holy Loch after she had her son, James.

"I'm surprised they allowed her to remain in Britain at all, sir." Harm said.

"Her father pulled a few strings. Admiral Walter Nevins, SACEUR."

There was a tentative knock on the door, followed by Tiner sticking his head in. "Sir... a judge Delany for you on line two?"

"Take a message." Chegwidden said gruffly.

"Sir, she said it's urgent."

"I'm busy."

"Sir, she said if you said that, she'll..." Tiner looked at the note in his hand, "...make sure you'll never have children again. Sir."

Harm and Mac turned back slowly to face their commanding officer, both trying not to find the situation amusing. To his credit, A.J. ignored their pathetic attempts at not laughing.

"Line two, Tiner?"

"Yes sir."

A.J. quickly finished the briefing as he picked up the phone, "Short version, you're hopping on the first flight to Heathrow, then on to Belfast. Admiral Nevins wants our people on it."

"What does he want us to do in Belfast, sir?" Harm asked.

"The Royal Ulster Constabulary has been tracking his movements in Northern Ireland. Do what you can to help them find the kid. Deal with any legal roadblocks." the Admiral replied.

Mac frowned, "But I thought you said this Barnes was a ghost."

"Well, Major... I guess that makes you ghostbusters."

"Aye sir." they both replied and spun around to exit.

A.J. picked up line two. "Hi, Laura."

oxoxoxo

0130 ZULU  
HEATHROW INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT  
LONDON, ENGLAND

Despite the late hour, the airport was still packed with passengers rushing to and from their flights. Mac tried to ignore all the open mouthed gapes they were attracting from the other passengers as they made their way down to baggage claim.

Of course, Mac knew that she wasn't getting the stares, no, it was her tall handsome partner in his smart dress blues that got all the women in the current time zone hot and bothered.

And naturally it didn't help that he had a brilliant smile plastered on his face, the one that would basically charm the pants off any woman he shone that smile at.

What was worse was he wasn't trying to charm any pants off any women. His joy was purely due to the fact he had spent the last 7 hours and 57 minutes in the air. Honestly she had never seen a man so excited to get aboard a plane as he did, that even flying commercial got him giddy with excitement.

Of course, that may have had a lot to do with the fact that since he wore those gold wings on his jacket, his flight had been possibly the most pleasant in the history of British Airways.

She swore that every female flight attendant on their flight must have come over to Harm's seat, from making sure he was comfortable, to adjusting his seat belt, to making sure he had dinner (twice!), to asking if he wanted to go up to the cockpit.

And it was shameless flirting from both the stewardesses AND Harm! Mac rolled her eyes remembering how one after another the stewardesses found a reason to touch him. And Harm encouraged it with his easy laugh and brilliant smile making them fawn over him and his gold wings more.

She was gonna shove those gold wings up where the sun...

She realized he was talking to her and quickly pushed aside all thoughts of homicide.

"Imagine being involved with an IRA terrorist. Talk about being married to a mob." he said.

"Harm, we don't always pick the people we end up with. It just sort of happens."

"It just sort of happens? What, no sparks, no fireworks, Major?"

"I think that's just in the movies, Commander." she said with a small smile.

"Not with the right person. Anything else and you're just settling."

"Settling down perhaps." she sighed.

He caught the sigh and the faraway look. She was a smart, sassy, sexy woman. And a Marine! An admission to settling for anything less than what she deserved was... surprising, disappointing and distressing all at once. 'Did she have someone in her life?' a jealous thought popped into his head.

"I never thought you'd be one to settle for anything less, Mac." he said with a touch of jealousy in his voice.

"I believe in compromise. Give and take."

"Not with me, you don't."

"Harm, the only thing compromised with you is your brain." she said with a cheeky smile.

"And here I thought you were being nice."

"I am nice. You're just not used to how nice I am." she teased.

Their conversation was interrupted when a British man in a cheap suit stepped out of the crowd to greet them, "Lieutenant Commander Rabb and Major MacKenzie?" he said with an Irish brogue.

"That's right." Harm answered automatically.

"Welcome to the U.K. Jonathan Graham, R.U.C. I'm to accompany you to Belfast." The man stuck out his hand to shake both of theirs.

"Is there a problem?" Mac asked, not shaking the proffered hand.

Graham retracted it, "Just a precaution. The IRA have operatives everywhere."

"Well, no offense, Mister Graham, but their beef is with you. We may be safer traveling alone." Harm said.

"Perhaps, but they did steal one of your children. Who knows what they're up to." Graham replied before giving both officers a once over. "And lose the uniforms. No point in making yourselves a target."

oxoxoxo

0830 ZULU  
U.S. CONSULATE  
BELFAST, NORTHERN IRELAND

Refreshed from a good night's sleep, Harm waited in the hall outside his bedroom. As special guests on the request of the Supreme Allied Commander Europe - Admiral Walter Nevins, he and Mac had both gotten rooms at the U.S. Consulate - which saved them the hassle of looking for accommodations while also saving JAG the cost of hotel rooms.

With a cold nip still present in the Irish air this late in March, Harm was glad he had the foresight to pack a blazer with his civvies. Growing impatient of waiting on his partner, he knocked on her door. And was almost floored when she opened it.

Mac was dressed in a patterned sweater that hugged her very obvious curves up top, and a cute knee length skirt that showed off her long elegant legs. His eyes took in her overall appearance with one lightning quick sweep.

"Very nice, Major." he said appreciatively, which made her cross her arms self-consciously.

"Yeah, well, I didn't think we'd be planning to go casual here, so I didn't pack much."

He noticed her shiver slightly, "Cold?"

"A little."

Harm shrugged out of his jacket and held it out to her. "Here."

She was surprised by his gesture, and a little flattered by it. "But then all you'll have on is a shirt."

"I rather have a cold chest than a cold Marine."

"Why?"

He flashed her his cocky flyboy grin, "Because a chest cold won't kill me as quickly as a cold Marine would."

"Haha. Keep that up and a warm Marine might kill you first."

She slipped into the coat and tried not to think how his body warmth still clung to it, and how warm it made her feel.

"So what's our next move?" he asked as they stepped back into the hall and headed towards the exit.

"First we get some clothes."

"Figures the first thing you'd do in a foreign country is go shopping, Mac." he joked.

"Well, it would be nice to have some clothes that actually fit, Harm. Besides, I'm not the one freezing their chest off acting all macho without a coat."

"Well maybe we can share the coat."

"And how will that work?"

"You wrap your arms around me..."

"Hah, in your fantasies, flyboy."

"Oh, you want to be in my fantasies now, Major?"

"Red light, Commander."

Harm laughed. "I swear you have a dirty mind, Marine."

She sputtered, "Me? You're the one with the fantasies."

"And you assumed they were dirty fantasies."

"Jerk." she laughed and smacked him on the arm, drawing laughter from him too.

oxoxoxo

0930 ZULU  
R.U.C. HEADQUARTERS  
BELFAST, NORTHERN IRELAND

Mac had bought a smart light gray jacket, returning Harm's to him. It hadn't cost a lot but it was probably still a waste of money since she wasn't planning on using it more than just this once.

As they entered the building, they quickly found that the R.U.C, while probably very good at their job, were horrible at handling Linda Nevins. They had her in an interrogation room and had grilled her for hours for any scrap of information concerning the father of her child, the IRA terrorist known as Lorcan Barnes.

Unfortunately for Linda, it was obvious that they weren't very interested in her motives for coming to them in the first place - to recover her son.

"Do you know where Barnes is now?" a dark-haired inspector with not particularly attractive features asked in what he must have assumed was his soothing voice.

"No, I haven't seen him since he left. Since before Jimmy was born." Lt. Nevins replied.

Through the one-way mirror, the two JAG lawyers observed the interview. Harm turned to Inspector Graham.

"What is this? An interrogation?"

"Certainly not. She came to us voluntarily." Graham responded as if he was insulted by the implication otherwise. They returned their attention to the aggressive interview.

"Why are you protecting this man who stole your baby?" the inspector asked firmly.

"He's not what you think he is." Linda said, trying her best not to cry.

"You don't know him. Do you know how many children he's made orphans with his bombs and guns? Do you know how many babes, some younger than your son, he's..."

Harm had seen enough, had enough of the R.U.C's rough treatment of the young Lieutenant. Harm threw open the door to the interrogation room, making the inspector whirl round.

"Who the hell are you?!" the R.U.C inspector shouted at him.

"Lieutenant Commander Rabb, U.S. Navy."

And Mac was right beside him. "Major MacKenzie, United States Marine Corps."

Seeing Lt. Nevins rise, Mac waved her down, "As you were, Lieutenant."

Harm glared at the belligerent inspector, "We represent Lieutenant Nevins' interest here."

"Well, then it seems we share the same interest. I'm Inspector Vincent Hutchenson." the odious man introduced himself.

Harm spoke calmly and coldly, "Would you mind if you and I had a word alone, inspector?"

Hutchenson glanced down at the pathetic Ms. Nevins. "Not at all. I'm finished here, I expect. Good day."

He exited, leaving Harm and Mac with the Lieutenant. Harm shared a look with Mac, silently communicating and instantly agreeing on what they each should do. "I'll meet you outside." Harm said before following the inspector out the room.

Mac turned to the distressed Lieutenant not much younger than herself. "Not exactly sympathetic, are they?"

"No, ma'am." Linda Nevins tried her best to retain a brave front, but already the quivering bottom lip and tear-swollen eyes gave her away.

"Have you told them what Lorcan might want with his son?" Mac said gently.

Biting back a sob, Linda opened up to Mac. "They have their own theory. A human shield. It wouldn't look good for the Brits if an American child was killed while hunting down a terrorist."

"I take it you don't agree?"

"Lorcan loves Jimmy. He would never put him in danger."

The Lieutenant couldn't quite hide the affection she still held for her former lover, and the father of her child. Mac was unsure if what the Lieutenant said about Lorcan Barnes was true, or if it was what she wanted to believe. Mac felt it was kinder to not shatter the illusion, at least for the moment.

"So what's your theory?" Mac asked softly, prompting the young Lieutenant to share.

"Lorcan doesn't want to give him up."

"Does he even know him? I thought you broke off contact..." Mac trailed off. Even a child would have been able to recognize the look of guilt on Linda's face.

Mac's voice dipped, "You kept in touch with him..."

"You should have seen his face the first time he saw his son. There was an instant bond. For a minute I thought he might give it all up to take care of him."

"But he didn't."

"He disappeared. I haven't heard from him in almost eight months. I didn't even know if he was still alive... so I finally requested a transfer. Jimmy and I were returning to Norfolk in ten days."

Linda shook her head, causing tear droplets to fly. "I guess Lorcan just wasn't going to let that happen."

oxoxoxo

A thin fog had descended over Belfast, covering the city in a picturesque, ethereal haze.

Harm's meeting with Inspector Hutchenson went about as well as he could have hoped, considering Harm hadn't decked the man for his callous attitude in rescuing Lt. Nevins' son. It couldn't have gone much worse either, since he hadn't received any cooperation or help from the R.U.C.

Hutchenson didn't care if Jimmy was still alive, and as far as he was concerned, it was an unneeded complication to the case. An unneeded and unappreciated complication.

So when Harm, Mac and Lt. Nevins stepped out of the R.U.C building, he just shook his head when Mac asked about how his meeting with the inspector went.

"So what? That means we're on our own?" Mac asked, careful to keep her voice low enough to not let the distraught mother with them overhear her words.

"Well, he prefers we go home and wait for the phone to ring." Harm whispered back equally mindful of Lt. Nevins.

"Yeah, not likely."

"I think he knows that."

"Lorcan." Lt. Nevins suddenly gasped.

"What?" Mac turned to the Lieutenant who looked like she had just seen a ghost. Because she did. She saw The Ghost.

"Lorcan!" she pointed at the tall man with dark features standing across the street. She ran after him, forcing Harm and Mac to follow suit.

Before a massive explosion behind them knocked them to the ground. Shattered glass showered the three of them with Harm shielding both women with his body the best he could.

Once the explosion cleared, Harm looked down at the two women. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Lieutenant?" Mac turned to the younger woman.

"What happened?" Linda asked, dazed.

"My guess is Barnes was sending a message." Mac said.

Harm searched the street and found that Barnes was no longer there. "Where is he?"

"Look." Mac said, pointing at some graffiti spray painted on the wall Barnes had stood against. In crude letters it said, 'I don't have our son.'

Linda Nevins broke down and started sobbing. "Oh, Lorcan..."

Mac realized that the young Lieutenant's arm was bleeding, cut by the falling sheet glass. Behind them, the facade of the R.U.C. building smoked and burned, damaged superficially. Amid broken glass, rubble and debris, inspectors and officers flooded out, coughing and gasping for air but mostly unhurt.

Sirens blared through the city as R.U.C. squad cars rushed back to their HQ. Hearing the sirens, Mac turned to her JAG partner.

"We should get out of here. We need to get her some medical attention."

"And some protection as well." Harm agreed as he ushered both women away from the R.U.C. building.

oxoxoxo

Olivia Quinn was a slim redhead with brilliant green eyes and stunning bone structure. However, her mouth was a little too wide, her lips a little too thin, her ears were a little too stuck out and her skin was a little too freckly for her to be considered a ravishing beauty. She was however still an attractive sight, especially with her short curls tucked under a knit cap. She raced down the street and went inside a small house.

Rushing up the stairs, she took the steps two-by-two until she reached the top. She threw open the upstairs bedroom door without knocking first.

And almost got a bullet for her troubles as she came face to face with a handgun. It was held by a man about 10 years her senior, but whom she was sleeping with because he was so ruggedly handsome and spoke with the very brogue that made Irish men so sexy.

"Jesus, Liv, I almost shot you!" he said, lowering his gun.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't then Liam." Olivia replied as she moved towards the crib set up in the corner. "We've got to get him out of here."

"Why? What's wrong?" Liam asked in concern.

"Barnes has struck the R.U.C. Who knows what will happen if he finds us." Olivia said as she lifted the crying infant from his crib.

"Does he know where we are?"

"The most wanted man in all of Ulster just planted a bomb at the headquarters of a police force out looking for him. If he found us, would we even notice?"

"Then we need to cut our losses, destroy all evidence." Liam said, leaving no doubt as to his meaning. He reached for the crying boy on Olivia's shoulder - James Seamus Nevins - Jimmy.

Olivia ducked away as she stared at her lover in horror. "No."

Liam turned pleading eyes to her, "Liv, he's not our child. He's the child of a monster."

"But he is still a child, Liam. We took him to find his father, not turn into him. We were ordered to keep the child alive."

"If we're caught our careers are over."

"... Not if we return the child to his mother."

"Liv, we can't walk right into the U.S. Consulate to hand him over. They'll ask too many questions."

Olivia cooed at Jimmy, calming his cries. With his wailing no longer so strident, she turned to her partner with an idea.

"We don't have to walk into the U.S. Consulate."

oxoxoxo

1300 ZULU  
U.S. CONSULATE  
BELFAST, NORTHERN IRELAND

Harm saw Mac come out from the infirmary and shot her a questioning gaze. "Is she okay?"

"Aside from the cut and still missing her child, she's fine."

"How about you?" Harm asked now that he could concentrate on someone other than the young Lieutenant.

"I'm fine. And you?" Mac returned his concern.

"Unscathed though that was a close shave."

"Did you call the Admiral?" she asked and noticed Harm's demeanor change immediately. "What is it?"

"He's pulling our op. He wants us to get Lieutenant Nevins on the first flight home."

"But we haven't found Jimmy."

"Jimmy's not in the Navy. We are. He can't risk having three US officers being blown up by a crazed terrorist."

"That doesn't sound like the Admiral."

"No it doesn't." Harm agreed. "I think it comes from above him."

"The SecNav." Mac said, recognizing the political machinations of the Secretary of the Navy Alexander Nelson, anywhere. "So what do we do?"

"Well, considering the Lieutenant was injured, I informed the Admiral it wasn't advisable for her to travel at this time."

Mac smiled at her partner's sneakiness. It bought them some time to find Jimmy... or at least gain information that would lead to reuniting mother and child. "Nice thinking, flyboy."

"Let's hope the Admiral thinks so too."

"Do you think Barnes was telling the truth? That he doesn't have the Lieutenant's son?" Mac asked.

"I don't know. He could have Jimmy and lied to throw us off his trail."

"But what if he's telling the truth?"

Harm's mouth twisted into a frown, "Then we've got more problems than we need right now. If only we had a lead." Harm complained.

"Jack Moore." Mac said.

"Who?"

"Jack Moore. According to Lieutenant Nevins, as a kid, Barnes used to work at a boxing club owned by Jack Moore. She said he adored the old man."

"She believes Jack is hiding him now?"

"No. But if anyone knew where Barnes was, then the closest thing he's ever known to a father would probably be our best bet."

oxoxoxo

1500 ZULU  
THE GILROY ARMS  
BELFAST, NORTHERN IRELAND

Jack Moore's gym was known as The Gilroy Arms - though it had little to no actual affiliation to arguably Belfast's greatest boxing son, Freddie Gilroy. Still the modest-sized facility seemed popular enough to have boxers of all ages working every corner of the gym as Harm and Mac entered.

Mac's presence didn't go unnoticed, as the sudden outburst of catcalls that grew with her every step greeted her. Harm glanced over at his attractive JAG partner who seemed to take it in stride - her face kept its professional countenance, though he noticed that her hands had formed fists. Somehow that little reaction brightened up his day.

The catcalls died the minute an old trainer standing beside the boxing ring in the center of the gym turned around. Harm knew instantly that this was the man they were looking for.

"Jack Moore?" Harm called out.

"Depends. Do I know you?" the man replied.

"We share a common friend."

"Does this friend have a name?"

"Lorcan Barnes." Harm said plainly.

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"He said you were like a father to him." Mac interjected.

"Hah! I've sired my fair share of bastards in my day, lass. But I don't remember siring him."

"Well Barnes definitely does remember having a child with this woman." Mac showed him a picture of Lt. Nevins and her infant son. "His name is Jimmy and he could be in danger."

Jack Moore stared at the picture before looking at the two Americans. "Wish I could help you, lass. But like I said, I don't know no man named Barnes."

He noticed the two Yanks turn to each other with a slight look of defeat. The woman spoke, "Well, thank you anyway..."

Jack thought he must be getting soft in his old age because he opened his mouth, "You're a nice looking couple. Out to see the sights are you? Possibly hitting the pubs and whatnot?"

The two JAG partners looked at each other once more. Harm answered. "If there's time."

"Try O'Shaughnessy's on Eaton Place. Has a familiar air to it if you're looking for that sort of thing. Try a pint of Fogerty stout, it'll see you right."

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." Harm said with more than a little caution.

As they walked out of the gym and round the corner, Harm asked Mac, "Think we'll find what we're looking for there?"

"I doubt it. Jimmy's a little too young to be drinking at a pub." Mac deadpanned.

"At this point, I think alcohol would probably be the least dangerous thing to him." Harm said, before he slowed to a stop.

Mac stopped as well to look at him. "What's wrong, Harm?"

"It's a pub, Mac."

"Why? You can't enter based on religious grounds?" she teased.

"No... but you..."

His concern for her alcoholism touched her. She came closer. "Harm, I can handle the smell of a few drinks."

"Even if it's being offered to you?"

"Why would I be offered a drink?"

"Mac, you're a woman."

"Thank you for noticing."

"An attractive woman walks into a bar, she'll have more than a few drinks sent over."

Mac smiled at his choice of words that revealed that he found her at least a little attractive. "Would you prefer if I stand outside the pub as you made your inquiries?"

"No... just..."

"Harm, I'm a Marine. I'm not going to be done in by a couple of frisky Irishmen offering to buy me a few beers."

His smile let her know that she'd won her case. But she couldn't resist teasing him though.

"Now if they were taking me dancing, I might be tempted to make it a night to remember."

Her laughter tinkled like crystal as she continued walking towards O'Shaughnessy's pub.

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**


	10. Ep 06: Trinity (Part 2)

**AN:** This is part 2 (of 2) of the episode. Hope you're still enjoying this.

* * *

**Episode 6:  
**Trinity (Part 2)

1600 ZULU  
O'SHAUGHNESSY'S PUB  
BELFAST, NORTHERN IRELAND

Olivia Quinn sat behind the wheel of a four-door sedan, looking out at O'Shaugnessy's pub. The two Americans have been inside for about twenty minutes, long enough to make inquiries, she was sure, but more importantly, not long enough to actually attract the attention of R.U.C. informants. But if they didn't leave soon, she might have to go in and get them.

"Olivia, there has to be another way."

She turned to her partner sitting in the passenger seat "Like what Liam? We tell everyone we were strolling along and found a baby in the street? And he just so happens to be the son of the most wanted man in all of Britain?"

Olivia returned her attention to the pub and found that the two Americans were leaving it. "It's time." she said as she opened the car door.

Mac noticed the couple with a child carrier car seat approach. She tugged on her partner's sleeve. "Harm."

Harm turned and saw the gun in the man's hand and instantly placed himself in front of Mac. "Run..."

"No, please. We need you to take him." the redhead said holding out the carrier. Harm looked inside and saw the stirring infant in it. Mac recognized the baby.

"Jimmy!"

"We don't have much time. Return him to his mother. Go." the redhead handed the carrier to Mac just as a shot rang out.

Liam fell to his knees as the bullet pierced his back. Olivia shouted, "Liam!"

"Liv..." was all he managed before another two shots pierced vital organs and he fell over, dead.

Olivia tossed Harm a gun from her waistband as she whipped another out from her holster. "Run!" she told them.

The two JAG officers didn't need to be ordered twice. They moved as quickly as they dared without jostling the baby, ducking into narrow and dark alleyways, trying to hide from any pursuer. Gunshots rang out somewhere behind them, a gun battle. A short gun battle.

Mac had to shush the distressed infant in the carrier - the loud sounds of gunfire waking him. Within a few seconds, Jimmy was soothed by Mac's calming voice. Mac turned to her partner, a little panic showing through her eyes.

"What do we do, Harm?"

He peered around the corner. An R.U.C. squad car was waiting there with two familiar faces.

"There's Hutchenson and Graham." he whispered to Mac and was about to step out to greet them when he saw another two cops drag the bodies of Olivia and Liam to them.

Harm pushed Mac back against the alley, his body covering hers. She looked up at him with wide eyes. "What?"

"Shh..." he shushed her with a finger on her lips as he strained to eavesdrop on the two R.U.C. inspectors talking.

"There's no sign of the baby." Jonathan Graham said.

"Shite. They must have given the child to the Americans." Vincent Hutchenson replied agitatedly.

"Vincent, it's over. Barnes isn't going to come for his kid. He's more interested in taking revenge than he is in finding him."

Hutchenson glared at his weak-willed partner. "Well, if Barnes isn't interested in his child, then I guess he'll have no problems seeing him die will he?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying once we find that bastard son of his, this time we send him back to Barnes one piece at a time!"

"Vince!"

"That bastard has taken too many lives, John. If he can kill my son, then I should be allowed to kill his."

Mac heard every word. She looked up at Harm as he quickly took her hand and led them in the opposite direction.

"Harm, Hutchenson is going to kill Jimmy."

"Yeah, I think he probably arranged the kidnapping too, Mac. We need to get back to the consulate."

"If we can get a cab." Mac suggested.

"The R.U.C. has probably set up roadblocks by now, looking for Barnes. If Hutchenson catches us..."

"We'd probably meet with the same fate as Jimmy's previous guardians." she finished his sentence.

Harm scanned the street outside the alley. Seeing that the coast was clear, he guided Mac across the street and into another maze of alleys.

"We can't keep running Harm." Mac said, as she noticed that aside from the carrier and a single bottle, Jimmy had nothing. "One bottle isn't going to last Jimmy very long."

"So we need baby formula?" Harm asked.

"And a place to rest. All this running around isn't going to help Jimmy sleep, and his crying will give us away."

Moving quickly through the labyrinthine back streets, Harm found they were now closer to a more upscale part of town.

Mac took a look around as well, "I think if we head east, we'll find our way to the consulate." She looked up at Harm. "Guess you're wishing they gave us satellite phones now, huh?"

Harm nodded. Neither of them had gotten international roaming on their cellphone plans so a satellite phone would have been useful. "If we could get through to the consulate without Hutchenson finding us, I'd even settle for smoke signals, Marine. Come on."

Putting a protective arm around Mac who shielded Jimmy, he led them across the street and up to a quaint little hotel called the Windsor Inn.

oxoxoxo

2100 ZULU  
WINDSOR INN  
BELFAST, NORTHERN IRELAND

Harm had pulled one of the chairs to position himself between the bed and the door. He was pulling first watch, and was glad that Mac hadn't fought him on it as she slept in the room's lone bed with Jimmy.

The kindly old owner of the modest inn, Mildred Smyth, had provided them with dinner - several shepherd's pies ably polished off by Mac, Colcannon - a traditional Irish mashed potato and kale dish for Harm, and for little Jimmy, something steamed and pureed into homemade baby food.

Fortunately Mildred had also seen that neither Harm nor Mac had diapers for Jimmy and had procured some for the little tyke, who now slept peacefully, bathed, changed and fed.

Harm looked at them on the bed, but his eyes were drawn towards the sleeping form of his partner. She looked so serene asleep. Her sleeping in her clothes was a sure way of waking up with them rumpled, but he could hardly talk her out of her skirt and sweater. Though if he could...

He leaned back in his uncomfortable chair and tried to keep his eyes open.

oxoxoxo

NEW YEARS DAY 1970  
1700 ZULU  
SAN DIEGO

Harmon Rabb Jr. stared at the front door.

He was dressed in his pajamas, which was strange because mom never let him dress in pajamas on important days like New Years or Christmas. He was to dress up nice, because they were going to church, or visit friends, or have friends visit.

Of course, the airplane jammies were his favorites but it just didn't feel right that he keep wearing them especially since they had guests about.

Harm looked away from the door and walked into the living room. There were a lot of adults standing there, some of them smoking. Mom never let people smoke inside the house, not even dad when he would light up the big cigarettes he called cigars. Mom would get so mad, claiming that they stunk up the place.

He observed the adults for a moment, all lost in thought and conversation. Sometimes he could stand there for minutes and no one would see him.

He would hear words that daddy told him were meant only for big sailors to say and mommy would wash his mouth out when he repeated it. He would see how uncomfortable everyone was with each other, pretending to like each other and trying to be nice yet not actually succeeding.

The minute they saw him standing there though, their reactions to him would always be the same. First the conversations stopped and the awkward looks would start. Eventually someone would come over to him and ruffle his hair, call him 'Sport' or 'Ace' or 'Tiger'. But they would never call him what his daddy's friends used to call him.

'Lil' Hammer'.

"Mom?" he called and more often than not, his mom would answer. "Mom?" he called again.

Regaining her composure, his mom stood. "Yes sweetie?" she said, as she sniffled into a scrunched up tissue and put on her best smile for him. "What is it?"

"... Can I have a cookie?" he asked, and the look of relief on his mom's face was so evident, so complete that she almost looked joyful.

Granted he had asked her for more stuff than he actually wanted. His cookies were actually stashed to be eaten at a later date - since his father always told him to never spoil his dinner. He wished he could keep ice cream the same way, but as nice as melted ice cream was, warm ice cream tasted funny, and not in the 'Haha' funny way, but in the 'I don't feel so good' funny way.

Eventually someone would give him the cookie, if not his mom then one of her friends. Sometimes one of daddy's golf buddies would take him out for a car ride and ice cream.

He wanted to ask all of them the same thing, but he could never bring about seeing them unhappy, so he was afraid to ask.

He made the mistake of asking once. He turned to grandma Sarah.

"Gram. Where's daddy?"

oxoxoxo

Mac touched Harm on the shoulder, startling him but her quick reflexes trumped his and she kept hold of the pistol, stopping him from firing it. He looked up at Mac with guilt in his eyes.

"I'm sorry Mac. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Don't worry Harm. You were as exhausted as I was. Anyway it's my turn..."

She didn't finish the thought as they heard old Mildred at their door. She knocked gently. "Are you decent, dears?"

Mac took the gun as Harm moved to the door. He opened it to kindly old Mildred standing there with cups of tea for both of them on her little tray. "Thought you two might need a nice little cuppa to calm your nerves before bed."

Mac smiled at Harm as she kept the gun behind her, hiding it from the old woman's gaze. Meanwhile Mildred set the tea down on the dresser and turned to admire how peaceful Jimmy was on the bed. "He's a beautiful child." she said, before giving both adults a cheeky wink. "You and the Mrs. are very blessed. He'll grow up beautiful like his parents."

Harm and Mac shared amused grins behind Mildred's back. "That's the hope." Harm said.

"Well, no use in me keeping both of you up past your bedtime. Sleep well. Good night." she said as she exited and closed the door behind her.

Harm took a sip of the tea, "I almost feel bad for deceiving her."

"Well, flyboy, you were the one who registered us as Mister and Mrs. Roberts." Mac said with a smile as she sipped her tea as well.

"I'm sure Bud wouldn't mind."

"Let's hope the future Mrs. Roberts doesn't mind either."

oxoxoxo

Mildred was cleaning up the kitchen when she heard a knock on the back door. Quickly taking out a key from her apron, she unlocked it to let in two masked gunmen. "They're upstairs. Room two-oh-eight." she informed them.

They climbed the stairs quietly and made their way to the room. Opening the door revealed both the Marine and the sailor unconscious on the floor. Little Jimmy was screaming his head off.

One of the men unmasked, revealing himself to be bald and menacing with an array of tattoos that marked him out as former military, probably commando.

The other man stepped forward and removed his balaclava as well, before picking up the infant. "There, there, little Jimmy. Daddy's here."

It was Lorcan Barnes.

oxoxoxo

Ice cold water splashed Harm in the face, waking him instantly. The water droplets burned where it made contact with his eyes and he struggled to shake them clear.

He was seated on the floor, tied up to an old steel I-beam pillar. He looked around the crude basement and saw neither Mac nor their young charge was with him.

"Where's Mac?"

"I don't think you're in the position to ask questions, Yank." the bald commando said.

Another man's voice spoke from behind Harm, and he struggled against his bonds to see who it was. No luck. "If you're asking about your woman, then she's fine. Don't worry, I tend to treat women a little more gently than I do the men."

The man walked slowly around the room, "You know, you're lucky Mrs. Smyth said you and your missus were kind to Jimmy, else we wouldn't be having this conversation, on accounts of you being too dead to respond."

"What do you want?" Harm asked tiredly.

"What I want to know is why you had my son." the man came to stand before Harm.

"Barnes." Harm hissed.

"Pleasure is mine, Lieutenant Commander Rabb, United States Navy."

"If you know who I am, then you should know why I'm here."

"Linda is taking Jimmy away." Barnes said sadly.

"Why would you care what she does with him. You left him and his mother in the first place."

"I didn't have a choice." Barnes said, and his response rankled Harm.

"She offered you the chance to have a family!"

"No, she offered me the coward's way out. I'm fighting for our freedom."

"And you're willing to sacrifice anything to get it. Including your son?"

Barnes' man smacked Harm with the butt of his rifle for his disrespect.

"That's enough, Ralph." Barnes got the man to stand back a little more before he squatted down to Harm's eye level. "My reasons are my own, but tell me, how did you come into custody of my son?

"A man and a woman had him. They gave him to us."

"Just like that?"

"Considering they were shot immediately after means they gave their lives for that boy."

Barnes' face hardened, "Maybe it was all an elaborate ploy to get me to resurface."

"Then two people are dead because of it. And who knows how many others. We thought you took him."

"Does Linda believe I did?"

"What else was she supposed to think? You left her the poem." Harm said angrily. "How did you find out about your son?"

"I might not be with him, but it doesn't mean I don't watch over him. The only thing I can't understand is who would do this." Barnes admitted.

"Inspector Hutchenson."

"The R.U.C. set me up?"

"No. Hutchenson did. He wants revenge for his son, by taking yours from you."

"His son?" Barnes looked stunned. "That was over ten years ago."

"If it was your son, would you ever stop?" Harm asked, knowing full well that none of them would.

"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." Barnes quoted scripture.

"Your son for his."

"If Hutchenson dies, Jimmy will be safe."

"Until someone else takes Hutchenson's place. And then the cycle continues."

"What would you have me do? Give myself up?"

Harm weighed his response carefully. "I'm not here for you Barnes. I'm here to help recover Lieutenant Nevins' son, and I will do everything I can to make sure that she and Jimmy make it home safe. Now, am I the only one in this room who wants that?"

Barnes stared at Harm before rising to his feet. But any decision he was going to make was interrupted by one of his men rushing in with a walkie in his hand. "Tanks are rolling down Westlink. They're heading this way."

The large bald commando known as Ralph glared at Harm. "They've got a fix on us. He's wired."

"We've searched him." the smaller man with the walkie said.

"He could have swallowed it." Ralph shot back.

"Hold on." Barnes went over to an adjoining door. He opened it to reveal Mac and Jimmy. "Come out, Major."

With her partner tied up in a room full of armed men, Mac complied, carrying the infant in his carrier car seat into the room. Barnes asked them, "The man and woman who gave you Jimmy. Did they give you anything else?"

"A gun." Harm responded.

"And the carrier." Mac realized.

Lifting Jimmy out of the seat, Barnes gave the order to his men to search the plastic child seat. And they found woven into one of the straps the tracking device.

oxoxoxo

Graham sat in his squad car outside a row of old tenements watching the tracking screen. He radioed in instructions.

"Turn east, down Millfield."

The large tank rolled down the street, its weapons coming online as it neared its objective.

oxoxoxo

Barnes with Jimmy, his team, Harm and Mac ran through an old abandoned warehouse on their way to escape.

Barnes' man with the radio - Murtaugh, gave the fleeing band updates, "They've passed the tenements. They're almost on top of us."

Just as a blast of the tank gun destroyed part of the wall behind them. They scattered for cover when Ralph turned to Barnes. "Go. We'll hold the devils back."

"It's a bloody tank, Ralph!" Barnes shouted at the former commando.

Ralph held up an anti-tank rocket launcher, "Then this should even the odds. Go!"

Barnes looked appreciatively at his right hand man, "Send the bastards back to hell." before he took off with Harm and Mac in tow.

They found an old white VW van parked outside. Barnes yelled at them, "Get in. You drive."

Harm got behind the wheel with Mac riding shotgun. Barnes and Jimmy got in behind. Mac turned to Harm. "Wait, Harm. They drive on the left side of the road here."

"Then hang on to your hat, Marine." Harm said before slamming the van in gear and racing out. Just as Graham and his army of R.U.C. officers spotted them getting away.

"Stop in the name of the..."

Harm didn't stop. Bullets chased their escape, throwing sparks all over the body work. They kept their heads down and were soon away.

Inspector Graham got on his radio. "Suspects fleeing in white VW..."

oxoxoxo

Harm hadn't really shared with anyone the fact that he had learned to drive in the Bahamas - a country which drove righthand drive cars on the left side of the road - a legacy of British colonial rule. In fact he had slightly more trouble earning his American driving license when he turned 19 than he did learning to drive in the first place. While years of driving on the right had made him feel comfortable operating a motor vehicle in the U.S, being forced to drive on the left actually felt more natural and familiar.

So as much as it was a surprise to Mac to see him drive expertly, Harm barely gave it a second thought. Granted he had more pressing concerns, such as avoiding the numerous police roadblocks that forced them into ever desperate and dangerous detours. Harm found himself cutting through empty lots and junkyards as often as he drove on an actual street.

Despite being jostled about, Barnes cradled his infant son, murmuring gentle words with a look of complete devotion. He marveled at the beauty of the one thing he was proud to have made. Mac noticed the bond between father and son, strangers to one another yet looking as if they've never spent a day apart.

"Where are we going?" Harm asked Barnes as he steered the van into a part of town that was, at least for the moment, clear of the R.U.C.

Barnes looked up from his son's innocent form with a determined look and a painful decision etched on his face, "You're going home. With Linda's son."

"What about you?" Mac asked.

"I'll survive. Stop at the corner, we'll switch. From here, you're only a couple of blocks away from the consulate. I'll take the van and lead them away. Stop here."

Harm immediately complied. The van screeched to a halt and they all got out. Outside, Lorcan Barnes kissed his son gently on the forehead and handed him to Mac. "Tell Linda that I will always cherish what she's given me. Her love, and our son."

"Barnes." Harm tried to stop him from getting behind the wheel but he wasn't listening.

"Here's your gun. Protect them." Barnes gave him the firearm before speeding off. Already R.U.C. squad cars were giving chase, following the white VW van as it disappeared round the bend.

Harm turned to Mac and they quickly fled the scene.

oxoxoxo

Traveling the two blocks to the consulate wasn't going to be easy. R.U.C. barricades cordoned off the roads, stopping everyone who was going up and down the street. Not that there were many people out and about anyway, not with the troubles in the city.

Harm and Mac snuck through the back alleys, ducking behind garbage skips and between grimy drains and gutters. Eventually they got close enough to see the consulate gates - but Hutchenson was there with a couple of squad cars. Waiting.

The former aviator turned to his partner holding little Jimmy protectively against her body. "Mac, you need to get him to the consulate."

"How? Hutchenson will see us."

"I'll create a distraction. It'll give you some time." he said, brandishing the gun.

"I don't think so, flyboy. I'll create the distraction, you go."

"Mac, don't fight me on this."

"And don't you dare contradict me, Harm. Last time I checked, I have the expert pistol badge, not you. When was the last time you fired a gun."

"Does court count?" he said with a wry grin, but she wasn't falling for his charm this time.

"When was the last time you fired a gun and actually hit what you aimed for?" she asked.

Harm's silence revealed the answer - that long ago.

"Exactly. I'll hold them off and you get the baby..." she held out her hand for the gun.

"No, Mac."

"Harm..."

"We'll go together."

oxoxoxo

Any need for a distraction proved unnecessary as Barnes' white VW van careened into view, hurtling towards the police barricade without slowing. Hutchenson stared at the oncoming van. And saw Lorcan Barnes behind the wheel.

"Shoot! Shoot him!" he screamed and the R.U.C officers opened fire. Bullets smashed into the windscreen, making Barnes flinch but it didn't deter him. He stomped down harder on the accelerator.

The van smashed through the police cars before tipping over, creating massive carnage as police officers dove out of its destructive path. All too soon, the van slid to a halt. Once the crash stopped, Hutchenson was brave enough to approach the van.

This was all the opening Harm and Mac needed. They raced across the road toward the consulate.

Hutchenson saw the bullet ridden cab, saw the smashed out windows, saw the stream of gasoline leaking from the gas tank, saw the lick of flame already burning. He stopped and waved his men to "Fall back."

The van exploded in a ball of gas and flame, blasting out windows and knocking those standing too close to the blast down to the ground. Car alarms rang out, triggered by the force of the explosion and played like a noisy mournful hymn. Black smoke rose up to the skies above the city, marking the funereal pyre.

Hutchenson glared at the wreckage before he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked back and saw...

oxoxoxo

Harm and Mac rushed to the gates where an armed Marine was on high alert. Harm and Mac, not in uniform, reached for their identifications to show the guard. Harm also ditched the gun - he didn't need to be shot by a guard thinking he was trying to attack the consulate.

"Open the gate, Marine." Mac ordered in her best voice.

"Stop right there, both of you." Hutchenson, gun drawn, had them in his sights. "Back away from the gate."

The Marine guard drew his gun, but was unsure whom to aim it at. Harm positioned his body to shield Mac and Jimmy, his ID held outstretched to the Marine at the gate.

"Don't let them in, son. They're fugitives." Hutchenson called out to the guard.

The commotion got Linda Nevins to look out the consulate door. She saw the standoff, and she saw her son!

"Jimmy!" she yelled as she rushed forward towards them. Another Marine guard held her back. "Stand back, ma'am."

"Arrest them!" Hutchenson yelled at the guards.

"Open the gate!" Mac yelled louder.

The Marine guard knew where his orders came from, and a Marine Major trumped a police inspector any day. He pointed his weapon at Hutchenson and opened the gate.

Hutchenson ordered his men, "Shoot them if they step inside."

Still shielding Mac, Harm told her to "Step inside."

Harm saw Hutchenson tense and Harm braced himself for the shot. "Don't..."

An R.U.C. squad car screeched to a halt, blocking Harm from Hutchenson's line of fire. A chief constable and his officers exited with guns aimed at the rogue inspector and his men.

"Vincent Hutchenson, you are under arrest for the murders of Constable Olivia Quinn and Inspector Liam McLaughlin..."

Seated in the back seat of the squad car was a cuffed Jonathan Graham.

Harm finally stepped inside the consulate and breathed a sigh of relief as the gates slammed shut behind him.

Mac handed Jimmy to his mother who showered the infant with hugs and kisses. "Oh, thank God, you're okay. Thank God. He got you back... he got you back." the young Lieutenant gave thanks to a higher power.

With tears of joy in her eyes, she turned to the two JAG officers who had saved her family. She asked, "Did you find Lorcan? Is he okay?"

Harm and Mac didn't know what to say to the woman.

Mac told her Lorcan's words, and despite them, sorrow gripped Linda Nevins. It was as if they had delivered another code. As if they had delivered Barnes' final goodbye.

Lt. Nevins head dipped as she held her son tighter and wept for the life she dreamt of, the life never to be realized.

oxoxoxo

1700 ZULU  
U.S. CONSULATE  
BELFAST, NORTHERN IRELAND

They could have been shot.

That was the overriding thought as Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie stood there in the middle of the lavish and overly ornate consulate hall, finally allowing the events of the last 24 hours catch up to her. Her clothes were rumpled, her hair disheveled, her mood dark.

They could have been killed.

Numerous times since their arrival, they had dodged bullets and explosions, some that came way too close for comfort, all in the hopes to rescue a single baby. A baby that she had shielded and tended to, had risked her life preserving. A baby that wasn't hers.

They could have died.

Mac stood outside the door to one of the rooms and took in the sight. Lt. Nevins held on tightly to her son - the joy of his responses soothing away her tears.

Mac felt a strange ripple in her gut, a strange indescribable feeling that made her knees weak. She sat down on the plush couch behind her and her body was glad for the rest. Still, she couldn't take her eyes off the young Lieutenant who held her child with all the love in the world, as if making a silent vow to never ever leave, to never ever walk out...

Mac felt the first hot tears spill from her eyes and wiped them with the back of her hand. It was fatigue, she told herself, fatigue and relief. Fatigue, relief and loneliness...

She felt his presence beside her without even seeing or hearing him, as if she had grown so accustomed to his ways that she could sense whenever he was near. She turned away from him, she didn't want to show him her weakness.

"Mac, are you okay?" Harm asked gently, his voice low and filled with concern.

She brushed the last stray tear away, "Yeah. Just thinking."

"About?" he asked as he sat down beside her.

"What a nice hot bath will feel like." she joked, forcing herself to smile as she turned to him. She found he wasn't looking at her and her brittle smile faltered. He was looking at the scene she herself was looking at just seconds earlier and he looked pained.

"I wonder what it's like to love like that." he said, his voice quiet and wistful, "To have someone take away all the pain with one smile."

Mac sighed. "I don't know." Her reply sounded small and unsure, sounded scared that she might never know.

Harm stared at Jimmy, sleeping peacefully in his mother's arms. "I just wished he got to know his father." Harm said, his voice a little shaky and not just from the adrenalin rush now rushing to leave him.

"He will." Mac said as she leaned against him, and was comforted when she felt him lean against her too. "She'll tell him."

They sat there leaning against each other, being each others strength and for the moment, that was all they needed.

oxoxoxo

1200 ZULU  
HEATHROW INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT  
LONDON, ENGLAND

Waiting for their connecting flight to be announced, Harm sat next to Mac on the uncomfortable airport chairs. Further down the row was Lieutenant Nevins with her son.

Harm glanced over at his beautiful partner who was trying her best to stay awake. He smiled, knowing that their entire eight hour flight home was going to be spent sleeping - only for them to arrive at Dulles, wide awake at 1600 and not being able to sleep again the entire night. Maybe he could invite her over for coffee and they could get an early start on a couple of cases.

Looking up Harm was sure his eyes were playing a trick on him. He blinked but no, the one person in the world who couldn't be there, who shouldn't be there, was standing right there. He nudged Mac and she looked up too, and saw what he saw.

Lorcan Barnes.

Barnes stared lovingly at Linda Nevins and their son one more time, locking up one last image of them in his mind if he could never find his way home to see them again. A crowd of passer-bys obstructed Harm and Mac's view for a second, and Barnes was gone. A ghost. The Ghost.

Harm glanced over to see Linda and her son still fussing with each other, oblivious to the fact that Barnes had just been there. And he wondered, maybe that was how it was meant to be. Maybe one day in the future, long after the fighting was done, Jimmy would find his father. Maybe one day, Lorcan would find his way home and be a father to his son again. Maybe one day, they would have the chance to be a family once more.

* * *

**Next Episode:** Ghosts (2x07)


	11. Ep 07: Ghosts (Part 1)

**AN:** Hi everybody. Thanks for continuing to review and read this story of mine. Trust me, I read (and reread) all your reviews whenever I start another one of these episodes. I swear it's like fuel to me.

This episode really grew into something else. At first I was stumped at what to write. But as I did, it just kept growing and growing. Until it is finally the longest episode I've written yet.

Hopefully, it is still a good episode. And hopefully you'll enjoy it. :) And if you do, hope you'll let me know I'm on the right track :)

* * *

**Episode 7:  
**Ghosts (Part 1)

MARCH 26TH  
0400 ZULU  
CIA HEADQUARTERS  
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

The elevator whirred quietly as it rose slowly to the 4th floor. During the day, the sound wouldn't be noticeable. At night, it was all he could hear. Special Agent Clayton Webb tried not to fidget as he rode in silence. He was alone, with only his thoughts to keep him company.

Part of him was worried, as he should be. It wasn't normal for the Director of Central Intelligence to call any agent directly to his office. It was even less normal to summon one in the middle of the night.

"Fourth floor." the friendly prerecorded female voice announced the elevators arrival at its destination before the doors slid open to reveal a large darkened lobby. It wasn't entirely shrouded in darkness - a moon struggled past cloud cover to cast some of its glow through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows and in the distance, fluorescent ceiling lights cast an anemic glow.

The walk towards the DCI's office normally wouldn't have felt this long, but in the dark, distance seemed to be magnified. Soon enough though, Clay stood in front of the office of his boss, or more accurately the office of his boss' boss. He gulped, adjusted his collar and bow tie, and putting on an annoyed front, finally stepped into the antechamber.

A woman with a sharp haircut was seated behind her desk. She was the DCI's secretary, and she looked like she had never heard of the word 'fun' before.

She looked up at Webb with beady eyes that stared out over large 80s style glasses, a style way too old for her as she was obviously only in her late 30s, though she looked well on her way to being 60 if her sour expression was anything to go by.

Clay noticed the wedding band on her left hand. Obviously away from her desk, the woman was pleasant enough to have landed a mate, though Clay was also unkind enough to think that the poor man she married must either be blind as a post, or possess a severe masochistic streak.

"Director Garrison is expecting me." Clay said in his steadiest, most displeased voice.

The secretary nodded just the once, neither impressed nor concerned with Clay's presence. She entered a four-digit passcode in a keypad built under her desk and the DCI's office door unlocked with an audible click.

Clay opened the door and entered.

The office looked smaller than he expected but that might have been because there were no windows in this office. Wood paneling boxed in the room, creating a luxurious if somewhat claustrophobic feel. It also didn't help that most of the overhead lights were off or dimmed - and the source of most of the light came from the table lamp on the desk of the DCI.

Wyatt Garrison had seen and lived better days, as the years given to his country now showed their rigors on his face. Lines creased his brow, his eyes and his mouth, worry lines far outweighing laugh lines. His hair remained thick, but it was graying, something even his close crop haircut could not hide. Age wasn't being kind.

"Director Garrison, you wanted to see me?" Clay announced his presence by greeting the man seated at his desk, pouring over case files as intently as he poured himself a brandy. Garrison looked up from his endeavors as he leaned back in his chair.

"Webb." was all the acknowledgment Wyatt Garrison gave the Special Assistant to the Undersecretary of State, not ordering the man to sit, nor offering the man a seat. "How's the State Department treating you?"

Clay was nonplussed. If this was a social call then he didn't appreciate it. If this was a business call, then he appreciated it less.

"It's good. We haven't invaded any foreign countries of late, so work is pretty light."

Garrison chuckled as he sipped from his drink. He pondered for a second longer before deciding that Webb was worthy of a seat. He motioned for the younger agent to take one of the plush chairs.

"How long have you been with us, Clay? Eight years?"

"Twelve. In August."

"Twelve years. God, how old were you when you joined us?"

"Straight out of Yale."

"Ah, good ol' skulls and bones, I remember. You were a legacy weren't you?"

"You know I was, Garrison." Webb dropped all pretense of respect. If the man was here to reminisce, it wasn't as his superior.

Garrison snorted at that, "Still the sunny personality I see." he said, seeing that the years working at Langley and Washington hadn't eased the agent's prickliness.

"Director, if there's nothing else..."

"What do you know about Gayle Osborne?"

Gayle Osborne. Webb vaguely remembered him, about 55, about his height, though his muscular frame gave him a rather stocky look, former SEAL that pulled missions for the Agency in Angola, Rwanda, Gabon, Sri Lanka, Indochina - basically any slice of hell on Earth.

"Not much. But I'm familiar with his work."

"He's back."

"I wasn't aware he was away."

"We had to send him to Zaire. A little R-&-R."

R&R with the CIA tended to involve more than just cooling ones heels until you could come home. It tended to involve earning enough brownie points with the local CIA Station Chief to earn your way back.

"So Osborne did well in Africa?"

"Thanks to him Zaire is now seeking our help to become a Republic. Or something." Garrison waved dismissively. "And they're very eager to show how grateful they are."

"If Osborne was so good there, why bring him back?"

"He's a private contractor now. Have you figured out how we can keep a private American citizen from coming home yet?"

"Legally, no."

"Exactly. And I'm not about to risk illegal action for a grunt like him."

"If Osborne is a free agent, there's no telling what he'll do."

"Then keep him occupied. Find him a hobby."

"Why me?" Clay asked, with good reason.

"Because Webb, your father might have gotten you through the skulls and bones, but you don't get to ride his coattails here."

Webb kept quiet at that. He was aware that his botch up with the Declaration of Independence, stolen on his watch had severely compromised his career prospects. It wasn't about the number of times he fouled up before, which was none, but how big his foul up was, and this one was monumental.

"Unless of course, you're not interested in taking back his office one day." Garrison said, not so cryptically alluding to the position he currently held.

Clay countered calmly, "You could have ordered me to do this without the personal invite."

"I could have, but I didn't want to. No paper trail." Garrison set down his empty glass and looked the younger man in the eye, "Webb, Osborne is dangerous. Figure out a way to make him less so."

"Are you asking me to plan a retirement party for him?" Clay asked.

The standard CIA retirement gift for any ex-agent of the agency was a bullet through the brain.

"No, I'm asking you to think of a solution to a very unique problem. If I wanted him retired, I would have pulled the trigger by now."

Clay sighed wearily, "How much time do I have?"

"As much time as you need. He's already been here for a couple of weeks and he hasn't blown up anything yet."

"A couple of weeks! And we're only picking him up now?" Clay asked incredulously.

"An oversight I'm hoping you'll correct."

Clay stared at the elderly DCI, knowing the old man was keeping secrets the size of mountains from him. "Why bother keeping tabs on a former asset? He's not exactly getting any younger."

"What's more dangerous than an agent with nothing to lose?"

Webb was silent. The answer was obvious, and therefore the question was rhetorical and didn't need a reply.

"Just make sure he remains not our problem." Garrison stated firmly.

"Will that be all?" Clay asked, moving to leave.

"For now."

Webb moved to the door and was about to open it when Garrison talked to his back.

"And Clay. Next time, remember that your job generally involves foreign policy, not domestic issues. Your faux pas with the Declaration almost saw you kiss twelve years goodbye."

Clay scowled at Garrison in reply before turning the door knob to leave.

As he left the CIA Headquarters, Clay wondered about his assignment. Was it a favor to Director Garrison, or a test of his abilities? Or both?

He turned Garrison's riddle in his head. 'What's more dangerous than an agent with nothing to lose.'

The answer was, 'A _former_ agent with nothing to lose.'

And Osborne wasn't just any type of former agent. He was a survivor and that made him automatically dangerous. Anyone who could live with the devastating toll of running black ops and CIA missions for nearly three decades had good odds of being both immortal and immoral.

Osborne was also a loose cannon and in Clay's experience, it was generally better to leave that combustible mix alone. Eventually the loose cannon would do everyone else a favor by getting themselves killed.

But he couldn't do nothing either, as much as he preferred it. He decided to order level 4 surveillance - see but don't touch. Until Osborne did something stupid or dangerous Clay wasn't about to waste any personal resources or call in any favors to babysit him.

Besides, what was the most harm an old SEAL could do?

oxoxoxo

MARCH 30TH  
1100 ZULU  
MCLEAN, VIRGINIA

A.J. Chegwidden ran with an ease that showed he exercised daily. Granted at the peak of his powers, he did the same 5 mile run carrying about 50 lbs of gear and weaponry. And if he had to, he could have done it with another 200 lbs of human being on his back too.

He noticed that his running partner though didn't have the privilege of such training in her youth, so A.J. stopped and turned back. Just as he saw the woman he was waiting for come round the bend, trying her best not to gasp or fall over - whichever came first.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, concerned though he wasn't very demonstrative. He wrapped an arm around her though, supporting her weight slightly. She looked up at him and gave him a bright smile.

"When I said I wanted some exercise this morning, this wasn't exactly what I meant." she said.

"We do this every Sunday morning, Laura." A.J. replied.

"That's why I was thinking we'd do something a little different."

"And what exactly did you have in mind, your honor?" A.J. asked sincerely.

"The same thing we did last weekend A.J. And the same thing we did last night." she smiled suggestively.

"That can be arranged." A.J. smiled back, catching her drift.

"Yeah, but you got to catch me first." she laughed as she took off back to the house.

A.J. started to give chase but something made him turn around. Years of Navy SEAL training and survival in combat conditions had given him a sixth sense that he learned never to downplay or dismiss. Something was wrong.

"Laura, wait." A.J. called out to her as he took off after her.

"I'm not falling for that, A.J." she shouted back, all part of the game.

"Laura!" A.J's legs pumped harder, eating up the ground and closing their distance. When he saw it, the familiar thin sliver that stretched out like a gossamer web across their path. And Laura just snapped it.

"Laura!" he lunged and hauled her down, knocking the wind out of her. She would have been mad, if not for the explosion that went off just a few feet away.

She felt A.J. cradle her, checking to see if she was hit by the blast. "Are you okay?"

She nodded dumbly, before asking... "What the hell was that, A.J?"

He saw the two-inch porcelain figure - a Buddha with a hole in its belly - and A.J. instantly recognized it for what it was. It was a warning. It was a sign.

It was a nightmare come back to life.

oxoxoxo

MARCH 31ST  
1700 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Lt. Cmdr. Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr. looked up from the photocopier just in time to see the pretty brunette walking across the bullpen to her office. Suddenly impatient, he tapped his foot as if urging the copier to be done with its final Xerox. Agonizing seconds ticked by before the machine cooperated and Harm snatched up the copy.

He walked with purpose towards the office of his JAG partner, Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie. He had missed her earlier in the day as they were both in court. Before that, she had taken a few days off after their adventure in Northern Ireland to settle some family business.

His hand rapped against her door, making her look up and he was greeted with a smile.

"Hey, how was your trip?" he asked as he leaned against the door frame.

"Long." she sighed as she unloaded case files from her briefcase and stacked them on her desk.

"You know if you'd chosen to go this weekend you could have had company." he said nonchalantly, while seeing her riffle through her unique filing system. Files littered every visible surface from her desk to the cabinet tops to her chairs.

"Leavenworth isn't exactly a holiday destination, Harm." she said as she found the files she needed and started loading up her briefcase with them.

"How's Colonel O'Hara doing?"

She sighed in frustration,"About as well as anyone who's going to spend the next six to eight years in prison is going to do, Harm."

Harm was suddenly contrite, and his tone reflected that, "I'm sorry, Mac. I wish I could have done more..."

She looked up at him and shook her head. "No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be snide. I mean he was looking at twenty to life, so eight years at least gives him a shot at freedom."

She turned grateful eyes to him, sincere with her "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." he grinned.

"So I don't owe you one, sailor?" she asked with a wry smile in return.

He eyed her and his cocky grin widened, "Hmm, I guess you could."

"Just like how you owe me for saving your life?"

"And when did you save my life, Marine?"

She couldn't hide the amused twinkle in her eye, "If I recall, a certain aviator was hanging onto a helicopter skid over Red Rock Mesa about to find out if he could fly without wings."

"How about we call it even?" he was enjoying their banter.

"We'll see." her grin revealed she was too.

"How's your case?" Harm asked.

"Worse than the trip."

"So any plans for tomorrow?"

Mac stopped packing her bag and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Uh... like socially?"

"It's April Fools, Mac. Time for a little fun."

"God, you're not one of those 30-year olds who still plays pranks are you?"

"Hey, it's practically an Annapolis tradition."

"Annapolis, where boys go to remain boys." she mocked as she squeezed past him out the door. He followed her.

"Like OCS doesn't have its fair share of jokers."

"Harm, if anyone pulled a prank on a Marine, they'd wake up with their bodies buried up to their necks in sand."

"Seriously?" he asked, his tone and cocky grin showed that he seriously doubted it.

"Well, if you like I could bury you from the neck up instead." she said with a straight face.

Suddenly Harm wasn't sure she was joking after all, "Ah, so no pranks on you then."

"And they said you couldn't be taught." she laughed as she walked to the elevator. Harm found himself admiring her walk from behind for an inappropriate amount of time and forced his eyes upwards before she caught him. Just in time because she turned around when she heard her name being called.

"Major MacKenzie!"

Lieutenant j.g. Bud Roberts rushed over with files. "Here is the file on Seaman Zwicky you requested."

She nearly forgot them. "Ah, thanks Bud." Mac took the offered files just as the elevator doors opened. She stepped in and pressed a button, and gave Harm a final warning, "No funny business tomorrow, Harm. Literally and figuratively."

"Got it, Marine." Harm shot her his best smile.

The doors closed and she was gone, off to clear up the backlog of cases she created when she took the last few days off.

Bud turned to his superior, with a questioning gaze. "What did she mean, no funny business, sir?"

"Tomorrow. April first?" Harm gave by way of explanation and still the young Lieutenant didn't get it. "April Fools?" Harm finally offered and understanding finally dawned.

"Oh. So, no pranks tomorrow?"

"Not unless you want the Major to bury you up to your neck, Bud." Harm said as he walked back into the bullpen with the Lieutenant in tow.

"That actually sounds like an awesome prank sir." Bud said.

"It is... until you realize she's not going to dig you out." Harm chuckled.

"Of course, it's not quite as legendary or awesome as the ones you pulled at the Academy, sir."

"Allegedly pulled, Lieutenant." Harm ably denied confirming the fact, but the accompanying wink told Bud that he was indeed in the presence of the legend.

Harm glanced at the younger man, an Academy graduate himself. "So, did you pull any pranks during your days at Annapolis, Bud?"

Bud's chest puffed out with pride as he regaled Harm with his story , "Oh yes sir. One night, a bunch of us took the RAM from an IBM PS1 and swapped it with the busboard RAM of an Amiga 1000. Then..."

Bud started snorting with laughter, "... the processor started cycling trying to boot up, but of course it didn't recognize the RAM module..." More wheezing laughter followed "...it got stuck on loop... and the IBM..."

Bud dissolved into laughter before he could finish his story.

Harm glared at the Lieutenant j.g. unsure if even half of what he just heard was even English. "You're a regular wild man, Bud."

As he turned back to his office, Harm almost ran into a moderately attractive older woman with a visitor's badge. She was dressed in civilian attire, expensive but not extravagant.

"Excuse me, ma'am? May I help you?" Harm asked. She looked up at him grateful for any assistance.

"Yes. I'm here to see A.J... I mean, Admiral Chegwidden."

"This way ma'am." Harm led her down the hall past the bullpen.

They came to Petty Officer 2nd Class Jason Tiner, the Admiral's yeoman, who immediately stood at attention upon seeing Harm.

"Sir."

"Tiner, is the Admiral busy? Miss..." Harm drifted off to allow the woman to introduce herself, which she did.

"Judge Delaney. I'm sure he'll see me."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't recall he has an appointment..." Tiner started but she cut him off.

"Tell him Laura is here for our lunch date." she said with an authority that rivaled the Admiral's. Tiner jumped to.

"Yes ma'am." Tiner buzzed the Admiral immediately.

The Admiral's gruff voice came over the intercom, "What is it Tiner?"

"Sir, a Judge Laura Delaney is here for your lunch date, sir." Tiner spoke timidly into the intercom.

Quiet seconds ticked by before the Admiral's defeated tone came on once more, "Let her in."

"Yes sir." Tiner said, even as Laura was already halfway past the door. When the door closed behind her, Harm turned to Tiner, "The Admiral's girlfriend?" he asked.

Tiner nodded in confirmation.

oxoxoxo

"Laura." A.J. greeted her but his body language wasn't very welcoming.

"Did I come at a bad time A.J?"

"Yeah. I'm afraid I'll have to cancel lunch."

"Does it have anything to do with what happened yesterday morning?"

A.J. remained quiet, inscrutable. It might work on his people but not on a circuit court judge. She knew she hit the nail on the head.

"Why won't you tell me what's going on, A.J?"

"Because there's nothing to talk about."

"A.J, I'm a judge. I've received my fair share of threats over the years to know what one looks like."

"It's probably an April Fools prank that we stumbled upon."

"Is that the line you're feeding me?"

"Laura."

"You know, I never figured out why you were alone, A.J. You're smart, handsome, successful." she glared at him, "Guess I now know why you have an ex-wife and a daughter you don't talk to."

Her words cut to the bone, but A.J. didn't let it show on his face. Laura continued, "I'll leave it alone now because I trust you, and I know you're doing what you feel is right. But A.J. if you're not going to be honest with me, the next time I leave, it won't be just your office."

She turned around and walked right out. She shut the door quietly behind her, the soft click as it closed as effective as any slam.

A.J. knew he had watched a good woman walk out his door. As much as he wanted to stop her from leaving, he knew that he couldn't subject her to what was possibly his past catching up with him.

And his past was no place for a good person. Which was why he picked up the phone to call someone from the bad old days.

oxoxoxo

2000 ZULU  
CAPE CHARLES, VIRGINIA

A.J. walked up the wooden pier towards the large group of anglers standing at the end. Their lines hung out over the pier, and while it didn't seem like it was a very good day for fishing, no one seemed to care.

His Navy uniform and cover however stood out amid the casually attired and it caused some of the residents to do double takes, but no one paid him any attention after that.

A.J. could tell with one look who he was here to meet. Even if everything else about the man had changed, the years hadn't affected one thing - how the man held himself when he stood. That silhouette was ingrained in A.J's head. He approached the man.

Petty Officer (Ret.) William Hager had aged terribly since his days in the Navy, his skin was marred by sunburn and age spots and his face sagged with age and excessive steroid use. But the man's eyes still held the dead cool that betrayed he'd seen way too much, too often, too young.

"Good day for fishing." Hager said without even a glance backwards. "Hope you brought your pole."

"Not here for the fish, Hager." A.J. said, standing a little way from the man. Which seemed wise as Hager had a fishing knife out to fix his line, and the dextrous way he handled it showed that he hadn't lost any of his skills with the blade.

Hager turned to the Admiral, taking in his appearance. "A two-star. Navy has been kind to you, A.J. So what makes you call me up and ask to meet? You miss me or something?"

A.J. held out a tiny porcelain figure, the Buddha statue with a hole in the gut. Even Hager froze at the image. But just as quickly he returned to his task. "Nice souvenir."

"Is Jack Holford alive?"

Hager looked A.J. right in the eye. "You tell me. It was your bullet."

"Holford was a monster."

"Why? For enjoying his work?"

"For enjoying it too much." A.J. said grimly.

Hager put away his knife before stowing his reel and rod. He gathered his things, done with the days fishing. "Walk with me."

For the first time A.J. noticed Hager's cane and heavy limp. Hager tapped his hip and it clanged with a metallic sound. "Survived four tours in 'Nam, home six months and a civilian gets me with her car. Ironic, right?"

"Maybe it's retribution for our actions over there, Hager."

"We were grunts, A.J. We weren't paid to think. We followed orders."

"Didn't you ever wonder where the orders came from?"

"They all came from the same guy." Hager caught A.J's questioning gaze, "The President. I mean sure, the messengers might be either the Navy or the CIA, but he was the one who signed off on our orders."

"I doubt he knew what we were doing."

"I don't think we knew what we were doing either. And I don't think we ever wanted to know."

He took A.J. to his regular diner, tipping his hat when the servers and other diners greeted him amiably. He led the Admiral to his regular booth and sat down heavily with a relieved sigh.

A.J. spoke, "The Phoenix Program was a mistake."

"We accomplished more in three years with Phoenix than we did in the rest of the war. But what would you know, you joined us late."

"Is that why you allowed Holford to get away with murder for so long?"

"Is it murder when it happens in a time of war?"

"It is when the people he killed weren't soldiers." A.J. hissed, keeping his voice low. "Damn it Hager, Holford was gutting women and old men."

"They were NVA sympathizers."

"And that makes it okay?"

"You know, I never got you A.J. You had no problems staring a man in the eye as you pulled the trigger but you get queasy seeing others do the same."

"That's because I understood why I pulled the trigger."

"Tell me A.J, do you still feel guilty about killing Holford?"

A.J. was quiet at that.

Hager pressed on. "Holford is dead. Whoever sent you that is just messing with you."

"So it has to be someone who knew that this was Holford's calling card, and knew that I was there. That narrows it down." A.J. tried to remember places, names and faces of friends and enemies.

"Well, most of us are either too old or too dead to be playing games with you. If we wanted you gone, it would have happened years ago."

And A.J. knew that was the truth. He understood why he was targeted. He just didn't understand why now.

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**


	12. Ep 07: Ghosts (Part 2)

**AN:** Hey everybody, hope you're still with me. This is part 2 of the episode Ghosts. Again, I would love to hear what you think, as I'm needy that way.

* * *

**Episode 7:  
**Ghosts (Part 2)

0500 ZULU  
HARM'S APARTMENT  
NORTH OF UNION STATION

Harm heard the faint scratch of footsteps trying to be very, very quiet and was instantly awake. He almost had to slap his hand away from reaching for the bedside lamp - he didn't want to alert the intruder.

Sliding out from under the covers, he searched for a weapon and bit back a curse when he realized he had nothing on him. His golf clubs were in storage, his gun was... well, he had it stored at the back of his closet but he hadn't cleaned it in a while, and his baseball bat was currently in the living room.

But he was still a 6'4" man with almost 200 lbs of muscle, flesh and bone. He wasn't a bad boxer and he was in shape. That might be enough.

He moved quietly down the small steps leading into his living room when he heard... giggles?

"Mmm, baby." a very obviously female voice murmured.

'What the?' Harm thought as he went down into the living room, crossed over to the light switch and flicked it on.

"Surprise!"

Two scantily clad women and one very jovial Navy Lt. Commander grinned back at him, seconds before a polaroid camera went off, taking a picture of Harm standing there in his underwear.

"Keeter!" Harm shouted at his old friend.

"Hey buddy." Jack Keeter grinned with his arms draped over the girls either side of him. The redhead had a bottle of champagne and the blonde had the camera. "Happy April Fools!"

"Jack, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Time to get you out of bed old timer. Time to paint the town red!"

"I have work tomorrow."

"Like you've not pulled double duty before. Come on, where's the Hamster we all know and love?"

Harm grimaced at his old call sign as assigned to him by his former squadron mates. His dad had been known as Hammer, and once that had become common knowledge aboard his cruise, he'd been saddled with of course the most degrading sound-alike call sign a bunch of twenty-somethings could come up with.

"Jack, it's late..."

"It's just after midnight, old man. Now before I forget, let me introduce you to..." He showed off the redhead, "...Candy...", he showed off the blonde "... and Kayla." Both women giggled, as if sharing one mind, which they probably did.

"Jack, what are you doing here?" Harm repeated his question, this time in the voice that he reserved for court. It dampened Jack's smile, but it did little to dent Jack's joviality.

"Come on, lets all go out, do a little dancing, maybe a little romancing..." he said as he planted a smooch on Candy's cheek as he pushed Kayla towards Harm.

"Jack, you show up at my place with a couple of hookers-"

"Hookers?!" Kayla and Candy shouted indignantly. Jack shot Harm a withering look, demanding he apologize. Harm was actually in no mood to, and besides, dressed the way they were, what else could the girls be?

"We are not hookers!" Candy shoved Jack off her as she glared at him. "Come on Kayla."

"Wait, ladies, it's not my fault... My friend here's had one too many hard landings... you know brain-damage." Jack tried to salvage the situation but it was too late. Candy and Kayla stormed out without another word, taking the champagne with them.

"Ladies." Jack appealed one more time, but they slammed the door in his face. Jack sighed before turning a displeased look at Harm. "Way to go, genius!"

"Hey, I didn't ask you to bring them here. And what are you doing here anyway?"

"Can't a guy drop in on his best friend when he has some leave? Just thought me and my buddy can go out, score with some babes, pull a couple of pranks, for old times sake."

"Old times sake? Jack, as far as I remember we never rolled solo."

"Yeah, I thought we could give it a try."

"There's a reason we didn't go solo, Jack. Neither one of us was bright enough to not get caught. Sturgis always had to bail us out."

"Well, Sturgis is somewhere under the Atlantic right now, so that's out of the question."

"Yeah, and Luke..." Harm trailed off. Luke Pendry had died in a crash earlier the previous year. Keeter hadn't shown up last year like he did this year though so Luke wasn't why Jack was here.

There was another member of their crew who helped them run the April Fools pranks back in Annapolis and she was an integral element to why their pranks had grown in size and legend. The four guys were good with the physical task of executing the prank but she was the brains that made them legendary.

"And Diane." Harm concluded definitively and Jack's face crumbled.

"Hey, the night is still young..." Jack tried to keep up the charade but he knew the gig was up. "Sorry Harm. I was trying to..." Jack paused, looking for the right words.

"Recapture the past?" Harm offered.

"Help you move forward."

"How? By doing it with Twinkie and Ding-Dong back there?"

"Might have worked. At least you would be getting her out of your system. When was the last time you got any?"

"And how do you know that I'm not with someone now?"

"Are you?" At Harm's non-response, Jack nodded, "Thought so."

Jack pulled open the fridge and fished around in it until he found a beer. Twisting off the cap, he took a swig. "Harm, Diane's always done a number on you. I mean we had 48 hours liberty in Korea once and you spent all that time following her around."

"As opposed to what? Hitting on every Asian girl who had a friend blind enough to find you attractive?"

Jack shook his head, "I don't get it. It's not like you didn't have other women throwing themselves at you."

"Kate was a mistake." Harm said, referring to his former JAG partner, Caitlin Pike. It had only happened once, but it had happened.

"See what I mean? You weren't even with Diane at that point, so it's not like you were cheating on her. And you know she was with someone-"

He froze when he saw the murder in Harm's eyes. The murder and hurt.

"If you loved her so much why didn't you ask her to marry you instead of letting her go?"

Harm was quiet.

"Harm, have you considered that her being gone is magnifying your emotions for her?"

"... We were together before she left." Harm finally admitted quietly.

This was news to Jack. "What?"

"Diane came to me about two weeks before she took over as the crypto on the Seahawk."

"But she was engaged..."

"She broke it off."

"Why?" and then it clicked in Jack's head. "You went to see her, didn't you?"

Harm turned guilty eyes to Jack, "I needed to make sure she was happy."

"And obviously she wasn't."

"She said she loved me."

"And that's why you love her?"

"I shouldn't have seen her Jack. She wouldn't have left her duty station and come back here to be with me. I should have... I should have let her go."

"It was her choice to come to you."

"And if I didn't give her that choice, she would still be alive."

That admission seemed to sap all his energy. Harm leaned back against the door before he slumped to the floor.

"If she didn't come for me she wouldn't have taken the Seahawk posting."

Keeter grabbed another beer and approached Harm. He was risking being slugged for dragging all this up but perhaps that was what his friend needed - a beer and a punching bag. He held out the beer.

Harm looked up at Keeter and took the offered beer. Keeter sat down on the floor beside him and they drank in silence. Words weren't necessary. The memories that haunted them said plenty.

oxoxoxo

0700 ZULU  
MAC'S APARTMENT  
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Mac felt his hand on her cheek and she froze. He had come over, looking so lost and distraught, his eyes full of pain. It wasn't like the ones he normally had when he flashed that brilliant flyboy grin of his, but the one that he seemed to only reserve for her. When he really stared at her.

"Harm?" she asked and she could smell it on his breath, something sweet and sharp to her nostrils. She knew that smell anywhere, had dreamt of it regularly, had craved it even more often. Vodka.

He had been drinking. Heavily.

Without warning, he crushed his lips against hers and she was suddenly flooded with the taste that was uniquely his, blended with the heady sweet tang of cheap alcohol. She didn't know which was more intoxicating, and she didn't care. She deepened it, her tongue swirling against his, eager to feast, needing to satisfy her hunger.

When the kiss broke, she stared into his eyes and what she saw broke her heart because it resonated so deeply within her. She recognized that look anywhere, had seen it stare back at her in the mirror.

It was the eyes of someone who just wanted to be loved. To be needed. To be wanted.

She knew that in the cold light of day she would regret this, but there was no tomorrow here. There was only him. Her. Them. She took his hand and pulled him towards the bedroom.

He swayed slightly, no doubt because of his inebriation. She knew that maybe it was better this way. Maybe he would be too drunk to perform. Maybe he would be too drunk to actually be any good. Either was preferable. At least that way she could get him out of her head and her bedroom before the sun came up.

And more importantly, that way maybe she could at least regain control of her life.

Harmon Rabb Jr. was bad for her. She knew it, she believed it. He was bad because he kept her dancing to his merry tune. His light banter and easy smiles teased her senses, made her insides pop and fizz, made her eager for his attention.

She needed to rid him from her system because he was bad for her self control. She needed to rediscover herself. She needed him so badly.

Her hand rested on his chest and a light push was enough to get him to fall into bed. She hesitated then, unsure if she should straddle him and kiss him senseless. Unsure if she really wanted this to go where she wanted it to.

His hand reached out to touch her hip, snaking between the fabric of her tank top and the hem of her pajama bottoms, touching skin. And she knew then there was no turning back, even if her head screamed for her to stop, her body had a mind all of its own.

She climbed on top of him enjoying how the thick rough fabric of his jeans felt in between her legs as she ground herself against his obvious reaction. He wanted her, and that made her feel all the more powerful. Her fingers danced up his torso to undo the first button of his shirt.

He let her lead, the only response he gave her was the occasional bucking of his hips, impatiently seeking access, impatiently seeking union. It was deeply arousing for her, to control this powerful, beautiful man with a squeeze of her thighs, with a move of her hips. She leaned in for another kiss and he eagerly reciprocated, devouring her like a starving man.

His shirt undone, she let her hands run down his chest, playing with the hairs there, her fingers brushing over his nipples that hardened under her touch. How she had fantasized about doing just this since they were in California investigating the Howlers. It was then when he stood in her doorway, looking at her with such intense pain and passion that she almost... almost fell for him.

No, this wasn't love. This wasn't even sex. This was a mistake.

She stopped and stared at him, his eyes ablaze with desire. She had to stop. This was wrong. This was...

He flipped her over and his mouth claimed hers forcefully, silencing her protests. He then started his journey downwards, placing playful nips and kisses all along her jaw before moving to her throat and slipping down to the hollow of her collarbone.

"Harm... please..."

He didn't listen, didn't stop. She put her hands against his chest to push him off her, but they were powerless, as if her mind and her body were disconnected, as if her body had turned traitor.

"Please stop." she begged again, tears starting to form as panic gripped her throat. She wanted this but not this way, not in a fit of drunken lust where he didn't even know his own name much less hers. She didn't want...

She felt his hands tear her pants away, just as she was instantly aware that his jeans were gone too. They were naked from the waist down and while she couldn't see him, she could definitely feel him, poised against her center, poised to breach her. Poised to destroy her.

Her body betrayed her once more, she was soaking wet, ready for him, eager for him. Her legs widened to allow him access and he accepted her invitation, breaking down her barriers with one hard thrust...

Mac woke up in a sheen of sweat, her short bangs matted against her forehead. She reached under the covers to check if she was still dressed. She was, but the warm flood of sensation between her legs also told her body had reacted to her dream, to her fantasy just the same.

She scooted up to a sitting position, resting her elbows on her knees. Her hands covered her face and it took several long seconds before her breathing returned to normal. She was shaking, with fear perhaps, but with passion definitely.

Harmon Rabb Jr. was a dangerous man, her brain, her body and her heart agreed, but their reactions to that conclusion were all so different. Her brain rationalized that it was only an image of him, not the actuality. He might not be the wild uncontrolled passionate animal she imagined him to be.

Her body though craved it, wanted it, almost needed to believe that he was wild and uncontrolled. Her body wanted to be seared with his flame, wanted to be claimed by it and burn in his desire.

Her heart though feared him. He would destroy her if she got too close. If she allowed him to get too close.

It was just a dream. A damn good fantasy. A scary nightmare. Mac rubbed her eyes and sat there in the dark, trying to resolve the battle that was raging within her.

Trying to resolve what Harmon Rabb Jr. was.

oxoxoxo

1300 ZULU  
CAPE CHARLES, VIRGINIA

The pretty blonde jogger ran the length of the boardwalk, her headphones blasting out insipid manufactured pop music from some British girl band preaching girl power. It was infectious though and it helped keep her company.

With sweat starting to bead her brow, she turned around to run back to her lodgings. When something caught her foot and she fell, skinning her knee on the wooden slats that ran the length of the shore.

"Shit!" she cursed as she turned over to check the light scrape on her knee. Then she saw what she had tripped over - a lone foot sticking out from under the bushes. She backed away quickly, before chancing a look.

The old man had died of lead poisoning - two bullets in the chest, one in the head.

The jogger's shrill scream ripped through the crisp morning air.

Watching from a nearby rock was a little porcelain Buddha, with a hole in its stomach.

oxoxoxo

1500 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Mac saw him approach her office and she ducked her head deeper into her file, hoping he'd get the hint to leave her alone. This wasn't a normal reaction, but then again, neither was her dream last night 'normal'.

The knock on her door made her head pop up automatically and she cursed mentally when she looked right at him. She hoped against hope she wasn't blushing right now.

"Hey, Mac. My office. Five minutes." Harm said a little gruffly and stalked off, leaving Mac to wonder what his problem was. She was a little thankful for it though, it made it easier for her to be around him today.

Because God help her if he was his normal charming self.

oxoxoxo

Harm was not in a good mood. After Keeter left, returning the spare key Harm kept taped inside the mail box, Harm hadn't been able to get back to sleep. Not even after another three beers. Not even after he had strummed lazily on his guitar for an hour. Not even after the hour he spent lying down in bed, tossing and turning trying to count sheep.

He couldn't sleep because he was denying himself the one thing he wanted to do. So he finally gave in. He dragged out a slightly dinged shoebox from the bottom of his closet and brought it to bed. Inside the box were pictures of various sizes, each one capturing a moment and Harm was once again struck by how many moments captured here, were completely unknown to him.

Because the box wasn't his. Neither were the pictures. They were Diane's.

They were neatly sorted in photo albums, and largely ordered chronologically. Harm could vaguely keep track of the timeline simply by comparing how Diane had worn her hair through the ages. This one here had a little kink, and here she had parted her hair to the left instead of to the right. Here she had bangs. Here her hair was a short little bob cut, and here she grew it out.

He noticed that most of the pictures were from her time stationed in Command Naval Forces Korea, which was hardly surprising. After Annapolis, she was assigned there, where for the next four years she kept track of everything coming out of Japan, Taiwan, Hong Kong and China. The first time he heard her speak fluent Mandarin shocked him. That memory now made him smile.

He found a few pictures of them together, mostly candid shots of them pulling faces at the camera, neither one keeping a straight face as they goofed off, wasting precious film. In four years since Annapolis, their paths intersected a grand total of five times - once in Korea, twice in Norfolk, once in San Diego... and a magical 72 hours in Hawaii.

Harm lifted up another picture and it was the one that always got him. The one where he couldn't look past. The one which always made him close up the box and shove it back in the closet.

She was in it alone, modeling her wedding dress...

oxoxoxo

"When did you realize he was dead?" Harm asked in his sternest voice.

The young midshipman standing in front of him didn't look like a murderer but you could never tell, everyone was capable of murder.

"We pulled over to check on him. When we opened up the trunk, he wasn't moving." the midshipman 3rd Class gulped, keeping eyes straight ahead. "At first, we just thought he was drunk."

"You gave him alcohol?" Harm glared at the young man, shocked by his actions.

"Just a couple of beers, sir. We thought it would calm him down." the midshipman was positively shaking in fear.

"So you abducted him, coerced him into drinking alcohol and then forced him in the trunk of a car."

"Yes, sir." the midshipman was on the verge of tears.

This went beyond the pale. Even for an April Fools prank, this crossed over to sheer criminality. Harm caught sight of both his partner and his subordinate trying to hide their respective grins. He glared at them. Noticing his stare, Mac fixed her face into a professional scowl.

"At any point, did you try to revive him?" she asked, sounding as serious as she could.

"Oh yes, ma'am. We tried to get him on his feet and walking. Malcolm... Midshipman Holmes even tried mouth-to-mouth resuscitation."

The guffaw that burst forth from both Mac and Bud caught Harm by surprise. He glared at them.

"Can I see you outside a moment, Major? You too, Lieutenant."

He led the way out of his office and shutting the door turned to the two of them. "Do you think this is funny?" he fixed both of them with his best steely glare.

Bud at least had the decency to try and regain his composure, "No, sir."

But Mac didn't even bother to hide her laugh, "Harm, he's a goat. They gave mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a goat."

"Bill has been the Annapolis mascot for as long as I can remember." Harm said sternly. "Now, though that may mean nothing to an OCS graduate, it means a hell of a lot to anybody who's ever attended the academy."

"Come on, Harm. It was an accident." Mac made the case for the very alive and very human midshipman that Harm was prepared to throw the book at. "Don't tell me when you were at Annapolis, you never did anything like this?" she coaxed.

"Well, Commander Keeter told me that Commander Rabb was..."

"Lieutenant." Harm glared at Bud with a ferocity that even Mac found surprising. His tone was ice-cold, before slowly warming again, as if he remembered where he was. "Lieutenant, this conversation isn't about me." Harm said calmly. "Now, let's approach this with a little dignity."

"Yes, sir." Bud said, suddenly aware that perhaps his immediate future hinged on the next few seconds.

Fortunately for Bud, a woman approached Harm. "Commander, do you have a moment?"

Harm turned around to come face to face with a now familiar face. "Judge Delaney. Nice to see you again, ma'am."

"Thank you." Laura said before looking around. "Is there anywhere we can talk in private?"

Harm looked at his office where the midshipman was still standing at attention, so that was a no-go. He ushered Judge Delaney to the next best place for a semi-private chat.

As they walked away, Mac glanced at the young portly Lieutenant. "Who was that, Bud?"

"I don't know ma'am. But hopefully she won't worsen the Commander's mood." Bud said before he realized he had just badmouthed a superior officer in front of another superior officer. "I mean, not that the Commander is in a bad mood, ma'am."

"Relax Bud. Even I can see he's fallen out on the wrong side of bed this morning."

oxoxoxo

Harm led Judge Delaney to one of the balconies overlooking the well tended JAG grounds. It was isolated at the moment proving perfect for their purposes. Once they were alone, she spoke.

"Somebody booby-trapped the Admiral's running trail yesterday morning." Laura said, ignoring Harm's look of surprise at the news. "A.J. insists it was a prank but I'm not sure I agree."

Harm took in the information. "Ma'am, how can I help?"

"If you could get A.J. to open up to me, that would be a start." Laura said, putting Harm on the spot.

"Ma'am, I'm not sure..." Harm began, not wanting to get in between something personal.

"Listen, I'm not asking you to talk to him, Commander. Lord knows he'll probably ship you off to the middle of Antarctica if you tried."

"Yes ma'am." Harm agreed, perhaps a little too quickly.

"But I want you to keep an ear out for me. If you hear anything, give me a call." she handed him her business card with her personal number written down on it.

She sighed, "You know, A.J. makes a mule look cooperative sometimes. I don't suppose you've seen that side of him?" the judge cast a sidelong glance at Harm.

"No, ma'am."

"Hmm." Laura was amused by the blatant lie. "Be glad you're not under oath in my court, Commander."

"Commander."

Harm turned around to find that Petty Officer Tiner was standing at the end of the doorway, "Commander, the Admiral would like to see you ASAP."

Harm cast his own sidelong glance back at the judge. From the frying pan into the fire.

oxoxoxo

A.J. heard the knock on the door and called out "Enter."

Harm entered and came to attention before his CO. "At ease, Commander."

"Aye, Admiral. You wanted to see me sir?"

"I'm adding a codicil to my will. I'd like you to take care of it." A.J. said. "I've outlined everything you need."

"Yes, sir." Harm stiffened at the Admiral's request, especially coming on the heels of what Judge Delaney told him. Someone had laid a trap for the Admiral and now the Admiral was making an amendment to his will?

Harm realized that he must have been standing there for longer than he thought as he noticed his CO's stern gaze staring back. "Is there a problem, Commander?"

"No sir." Harm said, but couldn't leave it the hell alone. "Yes sir."

"Commander, is something wrong?" A.J. asked impatiently.

"I heard about the booby trap sir."

"Did... Judge Delaney put you up to this?"

Before Harm could answer, the intercom buzzed and Tiner's voice came on. "Sir, D.C. police detectives are here to see you."

A.J. frowned at the intercom. He pressed the reply button. "Send them in."

"Yes sir." Tiner replied, and the door opened to reveal two police detectives.

A.J. dismissed Rabb. "That will be all, Commander."

"Yes, sir." Harm spun round and walked out. However once outside, his curiosity was peaked and he cast a questioning glance at Tiner, his thumb indicating the Admiral's guests.

"I don't know sir. They just showed up." Tiner whispered.

"Did they at least ID themselves?" Harm asked.

oxoxoxo

"A.J. Chugs...wedding?" the lead detective mangled A.J's name.

"Chegwidden." A.J. corrected as he stood up and greeted the detectives.

"I'm Detective Spencer, this is Detective Corbin, we're with D.C. homicide."

"How may I help you, detectives?" A.J. asked.

"Do you know a William Hager?"

A.J. kept his emotions in check and his face a stone mask, but his mind was already racing. "Yes. I met him yesterday."

"Then you're probably the last person who saw him alive, Admiral." Spencer said.

"Hager's dead?"

Spencer nodded, "What did you speak to him about yesterday?"

A.J. contemplated his options. He had no interest in wasting time with the cops, but neither in good conscience could he obstruct justice. However whatever he and Hager had discussed yesterday wouldn't reveal who the killer was, not until it was too late for them to do any good.

"I'm afraid I can't answer that, detectives." A.J. said with a clear voice. "Attorney-client privilege."

"Hager was your client?" Spencer was surprised. "The man barely looked like he could afford a meal, much less you."

"The man may leave the Navy, Detective. But we don't leave the man."

"Then wouldn't you like to see your client's killer brought to justice?"

"Yes. But until you can prove that my discussion with Hager yesterday had anything to do with his death today, I'm afraid I can't help you."

Spencer eyed the JAG. He'd dealt with his fair share of lawyers in the course of his job, from the very raw all the way to the squirrelly ones from Capitol Hill. A.J. was still unique, a man with clout and conscience yet also had the vibe of a killer. Recognizing the Navy SEAL badge adorning the Admiral's chest, Spencer had no doubt as to why the last part was true. Spencer motioned to his partner for the photograph.

"Have you seen this before?" Spencer asked as he handed the photo over to the older man.

A.J. knew what was in the picture before he even looked at it. It was the porcelain Buddha with a hole through its belly.

"We found that near Hager's body. I don't suppose you could tell us if Hager was a Buddhist, was he?"

"I don't know, Detective. Religion never came up in our discussion." he said as he handed back the photo. Spencer however refused it.

"No, that's for you. Who knows, maybe it'll jog your memory if you look at it hard enough." Spencer nodded to his partner and they both moved to leave. "I'll leave my number with your assistant outside. If you think of something, you'll know where to reach me."

And with that they left the JAG to his thoughts. Once they were out the door, A.J. stared at the picture in his hand before he tore it up.

oxoxoxo

Mac sized up the midshipman standing in Harm's office. She wasn't sure what she could do for the young man's academic career, unless she could get the charges dropped. He would still have a severe reprimand, after all she had just learned that one too many sailors still held a fondness for their goat mascot.

Lt. j.g. Bud Roberts stood to the other side of him, trying his best to imitate Harm, which almost brought a smile to Mac's lips. It was like watching the runt of the family trying to impersonate his tough, tall, muscular, older brother, and the result bordered on comical. She turned her attention back to the midshipman.

"Perhaps we could convince the commandant that it was not meant to be a malicious act. I'm sure you're not the first midshipman to engage in an academy prank." she said, just as Harm entered with his face looking flushed.

She cocked her head at him. "Commander?"

Harm looked at them all distractedly before setting eyes on Bud. "Lieutenant Roberts, would you ask Midshipman Danvers if he'd like a coffee?"

"Sir, we just had coffee." Bud replied.

"Then have some tea."

"Tea, sir?" Bud was growing more confused at the strange request. Did the Commander want tea?

"Yes, tea. Now." Harm said firmly, and Bud finally realized what his superior officer was really saying was, 'clear out of my room, now.'

"Yes, sir. Midshipman? With me." Bud snapped to and escorted Danvers out. Harm shut the door behind them.

Mac looked up at her partner worriedly. "What's wrong, Harm?"

"Judge Delaney told me someone set a booby trap on the Admiral's running trail yesterday." he answered.

Mac frowned, "What kind of booby trap?"

"Obviously one that has the judge and the Admiral worried. He's asked me to add a codicil to his will. Then a few moments later, the D.C. police showed up."

"The police? What did they want?"

"I don't know. But whatever it was, was enough to make the Admiral cancel all his appointments and leave." Harm fished out the two separate pieces of the torn photo from his pocket. "And I found this in his trash can."

"You went through the Admiral's trash?" Mac asked, surprised.

"It was sitting on top."

Mac saw the picture of a small Buddha figurine that had a hole drilled right through its center. She'd never seen anything quite like it. "Well, what's the connection?" she asked her partner.

"I haven't the vaguest." he said, "But I think I know someone who might."

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**


	13. Ep 07: Ghosts (Part 3)

**AN:** Hey everybody, hope you're still with me. This is part 3 (of 4) of the episode Ghosts. Rest assured, the episode is actually written to completion and I will post the final part soon. (Or I could blackmail you guys for feedback first - heheheh).

Thanks to ArmyDT42 for your feedback. It's nice to know someone's actually reading this :)

* * *

**Episode 7:  
**Ghosts (Part 3)

1730 ZULU  
CAPITOL HILL, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Stretch limousines with diplomatic plates pulled up in front of the neoclassical inspired architecture - just another day at the nation's capital. However, with the Russian state and president's flags adorning one particular car - it was indication this was no usual visitor.

Russian President Boris Yeltsin stepped out of the vehicle and was immediately flanked by his 'aides' - bodyguards whose job was no more than to provide living kevlar for the Russian head of state.

A light gray town car pulled up and a familiar figure climbed out - that of the Special Assistant to the Undersecretary of State. Clayton Webb held out his hand to help out his date - a woman who was old enough to be his mother. Because she was.

Standing to one side, Mac glared at the man Harm was so insistent to meet. She didn't like him, didn't feel like she had to pretend to like him either, and as such had no problems letting her partner know how little she liked him.

"Harm, the man's a sleazebag." Mac said under her breath.

"Obviously a rich connected sleazebag, Mac. This is a $500-a-plate luncheon." Harm said with a sideways grin.

"Cream isn't the only thing that rises to the top."

"Care to give any examples, Major?"

"You don't want to know what I have to say about Webb, flyboy." Mac said, her mouth twitching into a smile. "Sailors don't have a monopoly on colorful language."

Harm's grin widened at her comment. He mimicked the Marine battle cry "Oorah." as a sign of respect to her.

Clay saw the two JAG lawyers at the top of the steps and rolled his eyes. He turned to his elderly date. "Mother, could you go on ahead? I'll join you in a minute."

Porter Webb glanced at her only child without even the slightest change in her demeanor, "Clayton, you're getting more like your father every day."

"Well, thank you, Mother." Clay said.

"That wasn't a compliment."

Her barb sunk, she moved away and entered the building, leaving her son to play with his friends.

"Taking Mom out to lunch with the big boys?" Harm said with more than a hint of mockery.

"Actually she's taking me." Clay said in his usual disapproving way. "What do you want?"

Harm showed Clay the torn photo, repaired with scotch tape.

"Where did you get this?" Webb asked as he held it up.

"From the Admiral's trash."

"Moonlighting as a custodian, Commander?"

"Just tell me if you know anything about it."

"It's obviously Asian in origin." the 'man from State' concluded.

"Something we haven't already figured out?" Harm's tone lowered, revealing his impatience.

Webb studied the photo for a few seconds longer, before handing it back, "I don't think I can help you Rabb."

"Because you won't or because you can't?" Mac asked, tiring of the empty posturing Webb was just so full of. Of course, in her opinion, that wasn't all he was full of.

"Perhaps both, Major. If I'm not mistaken, I still have a favor coming to me." Webb nodded knowingly at Harm, ignoring the former aviator's cold hard gaze.

Mac turned to her partner. "What is it flyboy, you trade something for something?" she asked as she moved towards one of the Russian politicos - a harried looking hatchet faced woman.

"Major, what are you doing?" Clay asked worriedly, but she didn't respond. Mac engaged the Russian woman in animated conversation and after just a few seconds, Mac returned with a sense of accomplishment.

Webb glowered at Mac. "What did you do? That's President Yeltsin's..."

"Personal secretary of International Affairs. I know."

"What did you say?" he asked.

"Is it important? But I believe your mother has just been invited to sit at the President's table."

Webb's eyes bulged, "What? How did you do that?"

Mac demonstrated how by rattling off a quick fire phrase in fluent, if slightly accented, Russian.

Harm was taken aback, "You speak Russian?"

"I told you flyboy, you don't have a monopoly on colorful language." she said with a smile.

"What did you just say?" her partner asked, equally fascinated and impressed.

"I told Webb, that this should buy his help this time." she translated as she locked eyes with the State Department lackey.

Harm raised an eyebrow at that, "Is that all you said?" he asked, knowing it wasn't.

"And a bit more, but it would be highly impolite to repeat it in public."

Clay frowned at the two of them. "You JAG people are going to be the death of me."

"I'll send flowers to your funeral." Mac fired back sharply.

Clayton Webb stared at the Marine Major, unable to think of a comeback to her open animosity. Grudgingly he turned to Harm, "Give me the picture. I'll see what I can dig up."

oxoxoxo

Admiral Chegwidden stood in the small office admiring the rows of books that lined the back wall. They were all law books, tracking local, state, federal and constitutional laws. It was an impressive collection. The door opened and he turned to see the owner of those books enter in her judges' robe.

"A.J." Judge Laura Delaney was surprised by his presence.

"I came to talk, Laura." he said softly.

The judge turned to her law secretary, "Hold my calls." and the younger woman nodded in understanding. Laura approached A.J. and pulled him into a passionate kiss. He returned it but all too soon pulled away. He kept hold of her though, a gesture that he normally didn't indulge in, and she noticed his strange demeanor.

"What is it, A.J?"

"It wasn't just a prank." A.J. finally stated, referring to the booby trap she had almost set off days earlier.

"I know." she admitted quietly, waiting for him to say more.

He sighed, suddenly feeling every bit of his advanced age. "If I was that unaware in 'Nam, I'd be dead. I must be getting old."

"Not as far as I can tell." she said with a smile, hoping to cheer him up. But it didn't have that effect.

"Laura..." he protested, but she cut him off.

"A.J, this isn't Vietnam. It's not a war."

There was so much he could say, but he didn't want to. She couldn't know about the horrors he had seen. The horrors he had committed.

"I think it's best that we stop seeing each other for a while."

Laura felt as if she'd just been slapped. Her mouth opened and closed rapidly, struggling to formulate words, struggling to formulate thought. "A.J." was all she could come up with.

"This may get dangerous, Laura. And you've got a confirmation hearing coming up. You don't want a ghost from my past to jeopardize your future."

"Shouldn't I be the one who decides that?" she said with barely concealed rage. "Ghosts don't scare me, A.J."

"This one would."

"How would you know?"

"Because he scares me."

And the look in his eyes revealed it was true.

oxoxoxo

2330 ZULU  
HARM'S APARTMENT  
NORTH OF UNION STATION

The stereo played softly in the background as a casually dressed Harmon Rabb Jr. flitted around his kitchen. He was cooking dinner for his guest, a striking brunette who was also dressed casually.

"You need any help, flyboy?" she asked, making him turn his winning smile in her direction.

"Yeah, so you can sneak in meat into my lasagna? No thanks, Marine."

Mac laughed at his paranoia - where was she going to conjure up meat? She didn't bring any and he didn't have any in his fridge. She leaned against the kitchen counter, admiring the craftsmanship of his renovation. She had to admit in the time since she first met him, he had done wonders with the place. There were still a few odds and ends that needed to be done - most notably, getting some furniture in here, but she had to admit that what he was doing with the place was amazing.

There was a knock at his door, making them both turn to it. "Can you get that?" Harm asked and she immediately complied. She looked through the peephole and was surprised by the identity of his visitor. She unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

Clayton Webb was taken aback when he saw Sarah MacKenzie in civvies answer Harm's door.

"Major. This is a surprise." he said by way of greeting.

"Not a pleasant one I'm sure." her scowl returned, as if she only saved it for him.

"I never said that, just surprised. I didn't think the uniform came off." Clay said, trying his best not to ogle her while mentally admiring that she was indeed a looker.

"Cute. Why are you here?" she asked impatiently.

"Is Rabb home?"

"What do you think? Shut the door behind you." Mac left him to let himself in. Harm saw Clay enter and turned his attention to the spook. Once inside, Webb spoke.

"The Phoenix Program." he said, as if that explained everything, before adding, "It was a CIA operation where we expanded our sphere of information gathering to include NVA sympathizers."

"What do you mean, 'expanded our sphere'?" Mac asked, immediately catching on to how sinister that turn of phrase sounded.

"Not everyone we interrogated was a known soldier." Clay admitted.

"Civilians?" Harm asked horrified.

"Who knows? Then again, just because they didn't put on the NVA uniform, didn't mean they weren't out in paddy fields trying to kill our boys." Clay said darkly, before continuing. "During Phoenix, one of the SEALs we used went over the edge."

Webb wrung his suddenly sweaty palms. "He'd remove internal organs from the NVA sympathizers as a means of extracting information."

"Torture." Mac gasped, unable to hide her disgust.

"It was a war, Major." Clay said quietly.

"I guess that's why we call them war crimes." Mac answered back.

Clay pressed on, "He would leave a maimed Buddha like the one in the picture with his victims, to signify that they would never attain reincarnation. That a part of them would always be missing."

"Who was this sicko?" Harm asked.

"Jack Holford. He was a member of SEAL Team Three." Clay held their gaze. "The same team your Admiral served in."

oxoxoxo

2330 ZULU  
A.J. CHEGWIDDEN'S HOME  
MCLEAN, VIRGINIA

Admiral A.J. Chegwidden pulled his sedan into the gravel driveway, the tires crunched the pebbles noisily as the car crawled to a stop. Night was fast approaching with the sky above already a flat shade of gray.

Darkness did little to dampen the beauty of the prairie-style house he called home. It featured an impressive veranda that wrapped around the house, giving him a space to enjoy the breathtaking view of the surrounding woodlands.

He climbed the steps up to the house and instantly knew he wasn't alone. The shadow at the end of the porch waited in the dark. A.J. recognized the man, and wished he didn't. Their paths had intersected during A.J's days as a SEAL, and the other man's days as a CIA sweeper.

"Osborne?"

"A.J." the shadow replied, confirming his identity.

"What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk." Osborne said as he approached. A.J. could tell that he was unarmed - not always a given with the CIA sweeper. Unfortunately, being unarmed didn't also mean he was no threat.

Chegwidden sized up Gayle Osborne. He was about 5'10" though the boxer's build of his body made him look shorter. His arms retained the muscled tone of a lifetime spent fighting, rather than developed in the hours spent at a gym. The sporadic scars lay testament to that fact as well.

"What are we talking about?" A.J. asked as he kept his hands in his pockets, one wrapping around his car keys in case he needed a weapon to strike back. Or strike first.

"Holford." was all Osborne said as he stopped approaching. He wisely stayed out of the Admiral's reach, the former Navy SEAL might not be known as a master of unarmed combat, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable all the same.

"What about him?"

"How sure are you he's dead?"

"Perhaps you can go to hell and check on him yourself."

That drew an amused snort from the shorter man. "You were always good with words, A.J. I see becoming a lawyer has made you better."

"As I'm sure you're good at whatever the CIA pays you to do nowadays."

"I'm no longer with them. Figured it was time to be my own boss."

"So why are you here?"

"I'm here because you have a problem. I'd like to help you fix it."

"And what exactly is my problem, Osborne?"

"Are we talking about your personality or your situation here?"

Chegwidden was not amused by the cute answer. Osborne continued, "I already said his name."

"He's dead."

"Okay, if you say so." Osborne walked past the Admiral. "Say hi to your pretty lady friend..."

A.J. reached out and grabbed Osborne by the collar. "You stay away from her Osborne." his voice full of menace.

"I will." Osborne replied, "Let's hope the dead man gets the memo too."

Osborne shook off A.J's grip and descended the stairs.

"Gayle, wait." A.J. called out and the ex-CIA man instantly stopped. He turned back and A.J. asked him, "What would you do if he were coming after you?"

"Whatever was necessary."

A.J. knew the only certain way to end this was to kill Holford all over again. He wasn't sure if that was a price he was willing to pay. "What if... what if what was necessary is not what I want to do?"

"You're a killer A.J. That badge on your uniform lets everyone know that."

The Admiral glanced at the crest of the Navy SEAL above his ribbon bar. The Budweiser badge as it was affectionately called caught dim glints of light and almost glowed gold.

Osborne saw the conflict on the Admiral's face and called him on it. "If you're so ashamed of your past, A.J. why do you wear the SEAL badge?"

"Because it reminds me of the time when I did at least one thing right." A.J. removed the badge and admired it, his thumb stroking the metal almost in a loving caress. "It reminds me that if good men sit by and do nothing, evil will triumph."

"Too bad we're not really good men are we, A.J?"

A.J. had no response to that. Osborne shrugged, "But then again, chasing ghosts requires men like us. Men who are a little crazy. Maybe even a little mad."

The Admiral looked up at Osborne. "If I wanted you to look into this, what do you need?"

From a distance, a camera telephoto lens caught the exchange between the Admiral and his guest. It snapped off a few shots, capturing the discussion and an agreement of some sort as both men shook on a deal.

The man behind the camera was Detective Corbin of the D.C. Police Department. He turned to his partner Spencer and gave him a knowing nod.

oxoxoxo

Harm glared at the 'man from State' standing in his living room. "Where's Jack Holford now?" he asked.

"He's classified as MIA, presumed dead." Clayton Webb replied.

"He wouldn't be the first vet from Nam to see his name on the wall." Harm said steadily.

Mac looked up at her partner, "So what are we going to do?"

Harm returned her gaze, "What can we do, Mac? I'll talk to the Admiral tomorrow."

"Well, let's hope he doesn't decide to ship us off to Greenland for meddling."

The oven's timer rang, signaling that the lasagna was ready. Harm went over to check on it. Clay noticed how Mac's gaze followed Rabb as he moved about the kitchen.

"Never thought you and the Commander would be playing house, Major." he said, causing Mac to whirl round.

"This is just dinner." she explained.

"Maybe for him." Clay said with barely concealed amusement.

"You might wanna rephrase that, Webb. I know how to hurt you in eight different ways."

"Only eight, Major?" Clay tsked condensendingly.

Mac held Clay's gaze, "The nine other ways require me to touch you." she said with undisguised disgust.

Not wanting to push any more of the Marine's buttons, Clay beat a hasty retreat. "Enjoy your dinner, Major." He was almost to the door when he remembered, "Oh, and mother thanks you for what you did at the luncheon."

"Tell her she's welcome." Mac answered with a nod, as Clay let himself out. Harm caught the tail end of their exchange when he returned.

"How did you chase him out?" he asked his partner.

She gave him a cheeky smile, "I told him not to mess with a hungry Marine."

Harm laughed, "I'm surprised he's not running for the hills."

"Mmm, if you don't feed me soon, sailor, you're welcome to join him." she teased, drawing a wide grin from him.

oxoxoxo

1320 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Harm glanced over at his CO, seeing a mass of emotions play across the older man's face, before it finally settled on rage. They were both standing over the Admiral's desk, staring at the one thing that had created this tense situation. Harm waited for the older man to finally say something about the photograph of the maimed Buddha.

"You took this out of my trash?" A.J. asked, his tone dangerously steady, barely concealing how angry he was at the Commander.

"Sir, if Jack Holford's out to get you..."

"How do you know about Jack?" Chegwidden shouted, making Harm flinch slightly. A.J. was livid and he had no problems letting it seep into his voice. "Is there anything you don't know?"

Harm gulped conspicuously before replying. "Everything else, sir. I don't know, anything else."

He scowled at Harm. "Jack Holford's dead. I know, I watched him die."

"Are you sure, sir?" Harm asked, trying not to be intimidated.

A.J's eyes narrowed at Harm's question. "You want him alive, don't you? If Holford's alive, maybe some other MIAs are alive too. Maybe even your father."

It was a low blow, but Harm let it go. Because it wasn't true. Mostly anyway.

"That's not what I meant, sir. I just meant that if it's not Holford, then it might be another member of your team."

"They're all dead, Commander. William Hager was the last one."

"Hager sir?"

"He's the reason why the police paid me a visit. I was the last person to see him alive."

"Not true sir." Harm disagreed prompting the Admiral to look up at him. Harm clarified, "The murderer was the last person to see him alive. Do you have any idea who it might be?"

"If I knew Commander, I'd be out there dealing with the problem right now."

oxoxoxo

Clayton Webb looked across his table at the bespectacled man nursing a Caffé Americano."What do you mean, you lost him again?"

They were seated at one of the trendy little bistros that were popular with the best source of information in D.C. - senators' aides and secretaries. Clay frowned at his companion, Felix Whitman. He was the tail Clay had placed on Osborne and over the past week, Felix had lost track of the old CIA sweeper on one too many occasions.

"Osborne doesn't make it easy to follow him. He doesn't have routines, he doesn't even stay where we books his hotel room. There's a reason why we have whole teams for this kind of work, Webb."

"You're supposed to be our best."

"Yeah, but I'm not God. I can't be everywhere at once."

Clay scowled. "Tell me what you know."

"Last I saw him, he met with some guy named... Chegs-Wooden?"

"Chegwidden." Clay corrected. "Did you at least catch what they said?"

"Osborne offered to hunt some guy named Holford for him. And then he went underground, not a peep since."

Clay contemplated his next course of action even before Felix asked "What do you want to do now, Webb?"

Currently they were at Level 4 surveillance. The surveillance levels they ran were similar to the DEFCON system, the lower the number the more critical the situation. Level 5 was 'Passive Observation'. Level 4, 'Active Observation'. Level 3 was 'Communication', Level 2 'Contact' and Level 1 'Resolution'.

In cruder terms, Level 5 - Listening. Level 4 - Seeing. Level 3 - Talking. Level 2 - Touching. Level 1 - Elimination.

"Hold the course." Clay said. "But do a better job. We can't afford to lose him."

Felix's face darkened instantly, "I would love to do a better job Webb, but without resources or backup, in fact without official paperwork you've got me stranded on the corner with nothing but my dick in my hand."

"Just stick closer to him."

It was the wrong thing to say. Felix's voice held firm, "Your family name may be legendary in our office, but you lucked into it. You wanna play spy, learn to play the damn game. Don't tell me how to do my job, because as far as I'm concerned, this is over."

He pushed away from the table and left. Clay called after him, "Felix." but the man disappeared into a crowd and disappeared from view. Clay had no idea where he went. Sitting back down, Clay cursed quietly, "Shit."

oxoxoxo

As A.J. drove up to his house, he noticed the car parked in front of it. "Damn." he cursed before stopping his car in the middle of the drive. He was immediately out of the car and saw the woman who shouldn't be there stand at the top of the steps.

"Hi A.J." she greeted him, dressed in an apron looking very much the picture of domesticity.

"Laura." A.J. replied. "Damn it, what are you doing here?"

"Making chicken soup. My daddy used to say that tough times go much easier with good company and chicken soup.

"You're not safe with me, Laura."

"There's no guarantee I'm safer without you, A.J. Now, you're gonna come in, wash up and we're gonna eat dinner." she said as she came down the stairs towards him. "And then we're gonna have a nice long talk."

When she put her weight on the fourth step, they both heard the loud click under her foot. The sound was unmistakable - it was a land mine. Laura looked back at A.J. and in a panic she started to step back.

"No, Laura! Don't move." A.J. ran towards her, but it was too late. Laura Delaney's foot came off the step and the explosion sent a hail of splinters everywhere.

As the smoke cleared, A.J. saw the blood streaked steps, and the severely injured form of his love.

"Laura!"

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**


	14. Ep 07: Ghosts (Part 4)

**AN:** This is the fourth (and final) part of Ghosts. I hope you enjoyed it.

* * *

**Episode 7:  
**Ghosts (Part 4)

0010 ZULU  
MERCY HOSPITAL  
WASHINGTON, D.C.

The operating room was a hive of activity as surgeons and nurses worked frantically on Judge Laura Delaney, trying to stem the internal bleeding. She was hemorrhaging heavily, bleeding out as a result. The lead surgeon called for more blood to replace what his patient was losing.

"Five more units of A-neg, stat." he yelled at the nurse before turning to the other surgeon. "What the hell happened to this woman?"

"Stepped on a landmine."

"In Virginia?"

Suddenly the monitors around them went nuts as Laura's stats started crashing, making all the alarms blare and beep in distress.

"Shit! We're losing her. Get the ECR." the surgeon barked at his nurse.

"Come on Laura." the lead surgeon said trying to keep his hands steady, trying to close up another wound, trying to save her life.

The mournful tone from the heart rate monitor showed a steady line. No pulse. No beat.

"Flatline. She's in full arrest! Stand by to V-fib."

"Standing by."

"Damn, damn, damn!" the lead surgeon reluctantly stopped treatment as he had to quickly remove all the metal tools from Laura's prone form. The crash cart charged quickly as the surgeons stepped back.

"Clear?" the v-fib tech asked. A quick look around showed that they were.

"Clear."

oxoxoxo

A.J. sat in the waiting room right outside the OR. He wrung his hands, or perhaps he had them clasped in prayer. He heard the doors of the OR swing open and saw the surgeon exit. He was instantly on his feet.

And froze when he saw the grim look on the surgeon's face.

"I'm sorry, sir. We did everything we could, but her injuries were too severe."

A.J's head dropped and he vaguely felt the hand of the surgeon on his shoulder, pushing him back down into one of the seats. A.J. didn't really listen to what the surgeon had to say, explaining the procedures that failed, explaining that grief counseling was available.

All A.J. could think of was how another person's blood was now on his hands.

He sat there unmoving for an indeterminate amount of time, unsure if minutes or hours had passed. It was only the sound of dress shoes coming to stand in front of him that made him look up.

Detective Spencer stood over him with a cup of coffee in his hand. He held it out to A.J. and the Admiral took it.

"I'm sorry for your loss." the Detective said neutrally.

A.J. wasn't buying the act. "What do you want?"

"In an hour or so, this case is going to the FBI."

"What? Why?"

"Because a federal judge was just killed. Unless you can prove that she was not the target, this is going to the Feds."

A.J. remained silent, unsure if that was such a bad idea at this point. Of course the Feds may take a closer look at him and dig into his past.

"Who's the man you met at your house the other night?" Detective Spencer asked.

"You had me followed?"

"Obviously it was the right thing to do. You're lucky I'm not writing you up as a suspect."

A.J. looked at his coffee and took a sip. It was black and bitter like his mood. "His name is Osborne. He's a company man."

"What company?"

"The Central Intelligence Agency. He's a troubleshooter."

"A CIA troubleshooter? Isn't that just another word for assassin?"

"No, I hired him to find out who is behind all this."

"And has he come up with any leads?"

"None."

"And even if he did, you wouldn't tell me anyway, would you?" Spencer locked eyes with the Admiral, both knowing the kind of man A.J. Chegwidden was. "So what are you going to do once you find the man responsible?" Spencer asked.

A.J. just kept staring at him. It was all the answer Spencer needed.

"Don't make me haul you in to prevent you from doing something you'll regret." Spencer warned.

"Are we done here?" A.J. said flatly, ignoring the warning.

"I hope so. Because the next time we talk, you'd probably be in cuffs."

oxoxoxo

Exiting the hospital, Spencer and his partner Detective Corbin walked back to their car. His partner was silent as Spencer laid out their next course of action.

"Get Judge Michaels. Tell him we need an arrest warrant for an Admiral A.J. Chegwidden. By tonight if possible."

They climbed into the car and Spencer turned to Corbin. "I've a feeling if we don't strike soon, the Admiral's going to start his own personal war."

Corbin nodded his agreement as he got on the phone. Spencer placed his key in the ignition and turned it.

And the car exploded.

oxoxoxo

TWO DAYS LATER  
1300 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

The JAG offices were not doing great as the bullpen was a veritable battleground between overworked legal minds and overwhelming paperwork. Paperwork was winning - kicking butt and taking names along the way.

With the Judge Advocate General - Admiral A.J. Chegwidden taking personal time off, he had named one of JAG's senior attorneys to make the office run smoothly. Unfortunately, the temporary JAG named was Lt. Commander Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr.

Not that Bud Roberts minded, because the Commander was a good man, an impressive lawyer, and a fine Naval officer. However, when it came to coordinating a staff of hundreds made up of lawyers, legalmen, investigators and administrators, the Commander may not have been the best choice.

On his way to the JAG's office, Bud passed by Petty Officer 2nd Class Jason Tiner. At his approach the Petty Officer came to attention before informing the Lt. j.g. "Sir, Commander Rabb asked not to be interrupted."

"Oh." said the chunky Lieutenant, his hand in mid air about to knock on the door. Bud turned to leave but not before asking, "Will he be long?"

"He's in session with Major MacKenzie sir."

"Oh." Bud repeated. Wait, why did Tiner answer it that way? "I don't understand." he admitted to the slightly younger man.

"I rather not explain, sir."

"What's going on, Petty Officer? Am I in trouble?"

"No sir."

"Tiner..."

The Petty Officer checked to see if the coast was clear, prompting Bud to do the same, before he took out a small money box from under his desk, "Buy in is five dollars for two picks per month. You can buy more picks if you so choose."

"Picks?" Bud asked, confused.

Again Tiner checked to see if anyone was watching them. No one was. Tiner leaned in conspiratorially. "The office pool for when the Commander will make his move on the Major, sir. You pick the dates... well two dates sir, to when you think it will happen."

Bud was surprised. "Dates? So you're betting on when the Commander will ask Major MacKenzie out?"

"Or more sir."

"More? More what?"

"More... _more_ sir."

Bud stared at the young Petty Officer trying to decipher the words, when he realized what Tiner meant, "Oh." and then realization really dawned, "Oh! How are we going to know that they're... together?"

"Well sir, I doubt they could hide it from everyone. As it is, they already don't hide how they feel very well."

"How they feel?"

Tiner's gaze at the superior officer made no effort to hide just how silly he thought that question was. "Sir, have you not noticed the... chemistry between them?" He said 'chemistry' so suggestively, even Bud couldn't confuse his meaning.

"There's nothing going on..." Who was he trying to kid? They had all seen it, the faraway look on the Commander's face whenever he had a moment to admire the beautiful Marine Major that was his partner. And the Major's sly glances at the Commander when she thought no one was looking.

"Who started this?"

"I am not at liberty to say sir."

"Does the Admiral know?"

"No. Oh god, sir, you're not going to tell him are you?"

"Relax Tiner." Bud leaned in and asked, "Just how much is there in the pot?"

"At last count... Four hundred and fifty dollars, sir."

"Already?" How long had this been going on? Bud straightened up and tapped his files on the Petty Officer's desk. "Well... let me know the minute the Commander is free."

"Yes sir."

"And Tiner..."

"Yes sir?"

"Five dollars for two picks?"

Tiner smiled as he opened up the ledger.

oxoxoxo

Harm leaned over Mac as she sat in the chair facing the Admiral's desk. He had handed her the handwritten note left on his desk this morning.

Mac read it aloud. "Commander, I'm leaving you in charge of JAG until you are relieved. Do not attempt to make contact with me or continue with your investigation into my personal matters."

"That's when I came in here and found this." Harm straightened up and held up a white envelope with the JAG's official letterhead.

"What do you think it is?" Mac asked.

"What else could it be?"

Mac had to admit it was most likely a resignation letter. Still, she found it hard to believe. "The Admiral wouldn't resign his commission over this."

"The woman he was seeing, maybe the woman he was in love with was just killed, Mac." Harm said, knowing the feeling all too well himself. "I'm surprise he's not out there right now curled up with a bottle."

"Drinking doesn't solve things. The Admiral isn't the kind of man to drown his sorrows." Mac said with certainty.

"No?"

"No. But the Admiral might try and drown his enemies."

"You don't think he's going after Holford alone, is he?"

"I think he's going after whomever he believes is responsible."

oxoxoxo

Clayton Webb stormed into the CIA lab and headed right to the bomb technician seated at a large workstation. Clay asked loudly, "Are you Collins?"

The lab tech looked up from his work and nodded. "Yeah, you Webb?"

Webb grunted in assent before getting right to the point. "You called about the booby trap."

"Right." the tech rolled his chair over to another desk, making Webb follow.

"So far I've identified the explosive used. C-4."

"That tells me nothing." Clay interrupted, prompting Collins to hold a hand up to shush him.

"But see here... this trigger mechanism, it's unusual."

"Unusual how?"

"The trigger used, it's not from Vietnam."

Clay frowned, "So it's not Holford?"

"Funny, that's what the old guy who asked before you said."

"What old guy?"

"About 6 feet tall, bald..."

Only one old bald guy fitting that description would be interested in this case. "What did you tell him?"

"The trigger used to activate the booby trap was developed in 1992 by the CIA for use in Africa."

And suddenly it all clicked. "Osbourne."

oxoxoxo

"Mac, what are you doing?"

Harm tried not to be impatient with his partner Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie. She was in the Admiral's chair, sorting out his computer system and reorganizing the duty rosters.

She replied deadpan without even looking up at him, "I'm making sure the office doesn't fall into anarchy while we're away, Harm."

"We don't have time for this."

"Well, I'd prefer if JAG ops wasn't a smoldering mess when we return."

"And I'd prefer if we arrived in time to stop the Admiral from doing something he'll regret."

"We don't even know where he is..."

The intercom buzzed, interrupting them. Tiner's voice came over the system, "Commander Rabb?"

Harm replied, "What is it Tiner?"

"A Mister Webb is on line two."

"Put him through." Harm said as he selected the line and put it up on speaker. Clay's normally whiny pitched voice came across even reedier over the phone.

"Rabb?"

"What is it Clay?" Harm asked impatiently.

"Chegwidden knows who's been doing this."

"Who?"

"Osbourne."

"What?"

"Look, you've got to get to the Admiral's ASAP. I'll explain on the way." Clay sounded like he was in an elevator as the signal started breaking up before the line finally dropped.

"Mac, we've got to go."

"What's the plan, flyboy?" she looked up at him critically and knew once again he was flying by the seat of his pants.

"We'll try and talk some sense into the Admiral before it's too late." he said, making it up as he went along.

"And what if that doesn't work?"

She got him there, but that didn't mean she was right. "You know what, forget it." He threw open the door and stormed out.

Mac sighed at her partner's impulsiveness. "Damn it, Rabb." as she quickly grabbed her cover and followed him.

oxoxoxo

Two landmines lay inside a shallow hole in the gravel driveway to A.J's house, gently positioned there by the steady hands of Gayle Osborne. Satisfied, he primed them and started filling the hole with a bag full of gravel - covering up the mines.

Once done, Osborne quickly grabbed up his shovel and gear. He made it back to his car parked just a little way down the street and got in.

When he saw the little maimed Buddha figurine sitting on his dashboard. He started to move but froze when he felt the cold edge of the knife against his jugular.

"Imagine running into you here, Osborne." Chegwidden's voice came from the back seat, cold as ice, hard as steel.

"A.J. what are you doing?"

"I think that's pretty obvious Osborne. So the real question is, what am I going to do?"

"If you want to kill me, you can do it here."

"I could, but I don't want you to die, Osborne. At least not yet. Get out of the car. Slowly."

oxoxoxo

A stunning red classic Corvette convertible powered round the corner, racing towards the Admiral's house. It was Harm's corvette and he drove it expertly. Under different circumstances, Mac would have enjoyed the ride. Under current circumstances, she barely paid attention to the experience.

Harm pulled onto the street leading to the Admiral's house and saw the black sedans parked across the road as well as an FBI Emergency Response Team preparing for what looked like a standoff. Harm and Mac stared at each other.

Clay quickly approached Harm and Mac getting out of the car and took them aside.

"What's going on, Clay?" Harm asked, biting out his words.

"It seems that after the death of the judge and the cops investigating the Admiral, the FBI quickly moved in. I've just about used all my connections to stop them from rushing in." Clay dabbed at his sweaty brow with a handkerchief. "All we know is A.J's got Osborne."

"Can we get in? Maybe we can talk the Admiral to stand down." Mac asked.

Clay nodded, "I'll see what I can do."

oxoxoxo

A.J. held Osborne at gunpoint as the ex-CIA sweeper dug into the dirt. He was making a large hole - about big enough to fit a human male, six feet under. He was making Osborne dig his own grave.

"You're not going to kill me, A.J."

"If you believed that, then why did you dig the grave, Osborne?"

Osborne gulped as he eyed the Admiral. Years of surviving black ops and CIA missions had taught him how to recognize the difference between posturing and a real threat.

The Admiral wasn't posturing.

"At least let me rest. This is hard work."

A.J. contemplated it before relenting. "Fine. But maybe you can tell me why, Osborne? Why murder everyone?"

Osborne leaned back against the dirt, dust and sweat creating a streaky stain on his shirt and skin. "Hager saw me following you. I had to make sure he didn't warn you."

"And the cops?"

"They were collateral damage."

"Laura too?"

"She wasn't supposed to be there, A.J."

"She was an accident?"

"The trap was meant for you." Osborne admitted.

A.J. shook with rage and he raised the gun at Osborne. His finger longed to pull the trigger...

"Sir, don't do it!"

Harm's voice cut through the fog of rage, and A.J. whirled in his direction. Mac and Webb were with Harm.

Osborne tried to take advantage of the situation and tried to scurry from the grave, but the cocking of the pistol stilled him. He looked back and saw that A.J. had the gun trained back on him.

"One more step, Osborne. Try it."

"Admiral, this isn't you." Harm tried to get through to his CO once more.

"I'm no longer an Admiral, Harm. I resigned."

"This still isn't you."

"You don't know that, Commander. None of you know that. I've killed in times of war."

"But you've never killed an unarmed man." Harm said.

A.J. was silent at that and Osborne decided that if he was going to die, at least he could bring the former SEAL down with him. "That's not entirely true is it A.J? You hide behind the law now but once upon a time, you took the law into your own hands."

"What is he talking about?" Harm asked A.J.

"Jack Holford. Your precious JAG there executed him without a trial."

The two JAG attorneys were stunned by the accusation. "Is this true, sir?" Mac asked.

A.J. stared at Osborne. "Tao Lai, 1972. I'd been with SEAL Team Three for a little under a month."

oxoxoxo

1972  
TAO LAI VILLAGE  
NORTH VIETNAM

It was hot and humid, the moisture was thicker in the air than it was on the ground. Young Lieutenant j.g A.J. Chegwidden dragged the back of his hand across his forehead, leaving a rust colored streak across his brow.

He stood in front of the prisoner - a Navy SEAL who was tied against a crude pole. Behind A.J. were six other SEALs, lined up with their rifles. It was a firing squad.

A.J. read from a small notebook. "Lieutenant Jack Holford, service number #859849031, you have been found guilty by a jury of your peers for crimes against humanity. As such, the punishment meted out shall be death by firing squad. Do you have any last words?"

Holford stared him in the eye before he hawked and spat at A.J. The spit hit him right in the chest, and dribbled downwards. A.J's face hardened and since no further words were forthcoming, he returned to the firing line.

"Make ready!" A.J. commanded and the line readied their weapons. A.J. was not the commander of the unit, but as the youngest and newest member of SEAL Team Three, he had been spared the nasty business of the execution. He would shout the commands but not take the shot.

"Take aim!" A.J. said and the line raised their rifles.

When all hell suddenly broke loose. With the SEAL Team coming under fire, A.J. dove for cover, grabbing his gear and weapons.

oxoxoxo

"What happened then, sir?" Harm asked.

"In the ensuing firefight, Holford managed to escape his bonds and fled into the countryside. But he took with him a hostage - a little girl, no more than eight years old."

oxoxoxo

1972  
JUNGLES OUTSIDE TAO LAI  
NORTH VIETNAM

A.J. ran as fast as he could through the knee-high jungle growth, trampling foliage and creating a noisy ruckus.

"Where is he?" A.J. shouted at his SEAL teammate - Petty Officer William Hager who pointed to the east, to the river. Sure enough Holford was stealing a small sampan there.

Their feet ate up the ground but as they came to the ridge, it became clear by the time they reached the river banks, Holford would be long gone, whisked away by the fast moving river. A.J. made a judgment call. He slapped on the rifle bipods and dropped to the ground, taking aim at the growing distance between them and the fleeing Holford.

"You're not a sniper A.J." Hager protested.

"You've got a better idea?" A.J. shouted back, as he took aim with the scope. Holford was seated with the little girl in front of him. A.J. almost threw up seeing how Holford was caressing the little girl. He took a steadying breath, and then took the shot.

The single shot caught Holford dead on and sent him backwards. He fell into the water and the fast current took him away.

The little girl sat there unmoving. She just sat there, bathed by the warm splatter of Jack Holford's blood on her back. And A.J. was unsure if she was more traumatized by that than anything Holford had done.

oxoxoxo

Mac was the first to speak after hearing the Admiral's story. "He fell in the river?"

"Yes. We never recovered his body." A.J. admitted grimly.

"How can you be sure he's dead, sir?" Harm asked.

A.J. looked up at Harm. "Because no one walks around with a bullet hole in the center of their head, Commander. Not even a ghost."

oxoxoxo

2200 ZULU  
OAK HILL CEMETERY  
WASHINGTON, D.C.

The FBI had taken custody of Osborne after the ex-CIA man confessed to his crimes. Clay had gone with them to sort out any snags, leaving the Admiral, Harm and Mac free to deal with the fallout of the incident.

For the first time in days, the persistent mist surrounding Washington had lifted, allowing a glorious sunset to cast its warm rays down on Earth.

Endless rows of well tended gravestones travelled the entire length of the luxury burial site.

Harm and Mac watched from a distance as the Admiral made an unscheduled stop at a fresh grave. It didn't even have a tombstone yet to mark who lay there, but there was no mistaking who the Admiral was here to see.

The Admiral knelt down as he talked to his former love, Laura Delaney. His lips moved either in whispered prayer or private conversation. Though they couldn't hear the words, Harm and Mac knew what the words were about.

It was about asking for forgiveness.

Mac turned away from the sad sight to look up at Harm. His expression was inscrutable, right here yet a million miles away at the same time.

"You're awfully quiet." she observed.

"Yeah. Just thinking." he repeated the very words she had used back in Northern Ireland.

"About?" two could play that game.

Harm sighed, one that seemed to come from somewhere deeper, as if he was trying to let go of the weight of the world. "If the choices we make define who we are, if you regret your choices, do you regret who you've become?"

Mac had to stop the overwhelming urge to hold him. She wanted to reach out and take away his pain, but she knew that if she did, she would only get hurt in return. Harmon Rabb Jr. was bad for her. He was dangerous. He was... a friend, and only a friend.

She lightened the tone of their conversation. "Pretty deep thoughts there, sailor." she said teasingly.

He looked down at her, caught sight of her kind eyes, her cute face and slight smile. It calmed his inner turmoil and he mustered a smile in return. "Yeah, but you don't have to sound so surprised, Marine."

"Harm, nothing you do surprises me anymore." she said and it made his mood brighten infinitely.

oxoxoxo

0300 ZULU  
CIA HEADQUARTERS  
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

Clay was seated once more in Director Garrison's office. Garrison looked at Clay disapprovingly over the brandy he had poured himself. "I thought I told you to keep Osborne occupied." Garrison said.

"Unfortunately he found something more to his liking." Clay replied, keeping his natural annoyance out of his tone.

"Did he say why he did it?" Garrison asked.

Clay took a deep breath. "Chegwidden was a new member of SEAL Team Three when the Holford incident happened. He was roped in as a replacement for a young Lieutenant j.g. who was injured in a previous mission. A Lieutenant Gayle Osborne."

Garrison was surprised at the connection.

Clay continued, "Osborne was injured by an NVA sympathizer and Holford avenged him, or so he deemed. By the time he recovered, Holford was dead and Phoenix was over. He was then recruited to our side."

"Why go after Chegwidden now?"

"Because he thought the Admiral was weak, was complacent, had something to lose."

"The judge." Garrison said knowingly.

"He claims that was an accident."

"Was it?" Garrison asked. Clay's silence showed he wasn't sure either.

"Does this count as a strike against me?" Clay finally asked, wondering if this marked another failure on his record.

Garrison contemplated before answering, "No. If I had submitted an official request, maybe. But then if you had the office behind you, maybe we wouldn't be sweeping a dead judge, two cops and a former SEAL under the rug."

"At least Osborne won't make it to court." Clay stated, making the Director of Central Intelligence pause between sips of his drink.

"No, he won't." Garrison finally said with a sigh. "It's a shame really, I didn't want to see him retired."

"Unfortunately he left us no other option." Clay said.

Garrison raised his glass to the air, as if saluting the ghosts of the past, "To the CIA. It's a job for life."

Clay sat there in silence, knowing that it was frighteningly true.

* * *

**Next Episode:** Full Engagement (2x08)

**AN:** Ah, one of the ultimate shipper eps. Hopefully I'll do it justice.


	15. Ep 08: Full Engagement (Part 1)

**AN:** Another week, time for another episode:) At least that's the schedule I'm trying to maintain.

Thank you everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited and/or followed this story so far. I'm glad you're with me on this journey - as wild, weird and hopefully wonderful as it gets.

As this is one of my favorite episodes ever, I have to admit I didn't rewrite much. Most of it happens as is. I hope you enjoy it just the same.

**Special shout out to:  
**livs2write's 'Sierra Adventure' which probably has one of the hottest M Rating scenes I've read. (at least to me... maybe I just have a thing for camping).

* * *

**Episode 8:  
**Full Engagement (Part 1)

0040 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Admiral A.J. Chegwidden looked tired, because he was tired. It had been mere hours since the standoff with the murderer Gayle Osborne in his backyard, and mere days since he buried the woman he had let into his life; only for his past to take hers.

He'd felt old before but never this old, and never in this chair. He was back in his office, trying to see if he could throw himself back into work, to shut out the image of his girlfriend... his now deceased girlfriend Laura Delaney. And while he might wish that he could pick up where he left off, he couldn't. His mind wasn't in it, and neither was his heart.

He looked up at his two senior JAG officers.

Lt. Commander Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr. and Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie stood at attention before their CO. Even though he wasn't in uniform, even though it was after hours, even though they had just helped him save his career and because of it, he was still their boss.

"At ease. Take a seat." the Admiral sighed heavily and he absently gestured to the chairs in front of his desk.

A.J. found his resignation letter, still sealed, hidden under his desk pad and knew that it had been hidden there by the tall Navy Commander who sat before him. A.J. turned it in his hand and for a second, thought about officially turning it in. He could go fishing. That sounded almost heavenly at this point.

"Commander." A.J. spoke.

"Sir?" Harm sat a little straighter in his chair.

"You disobeyed a direct order. I thought I told you not to find me."

A look of panic crossed the JAG lawyer's face even as he agreed. "Yes sir."

A.J. saw Harm's partner try to leap to his defense, but he cut her off by saying, "Thank you for disobeying it. However, I might not be so forgiving the next time, understood?"

"Yes sir." both JAG lawyers responded as A.J pocketed his resignation letter.

He looked at his desktop computer and was surprised to find the files reorganized into an order that actually made logical sense to him. He quirked an eyebrow.

"Rabb, did you touch my computer?"

Harm looked to reply but Mac beat him to the punch, "No sir, it was me. I took the liberty of sorting the files, reordering the documents and reformed the work schedule to take into account your absence sir. I'm sorry if..."

"Don't be, Major. This is good." A.J. clicked through a few folders and found what he was looking for where he expected to find it. "In fact maybe next time I should leave you in charge."

"Yes sir. Thank you sir." Mac smiled, pleased that her efforts were recognized, even as she tried to keep the glee off her face.

Leaning back, the Admiral addressed them. "Speaking of which... I'll be taking a few personal days. I trust that should anything arise, you'll be able to handle it?"

"Yes sir." They answered.

"Good." the Admiral turned to Mac, "Major, you're acting JAG until my return."

"Yes sir." Mac replied a little shocked at his appointment of her as temporary JAG, but also thrilled at the same time. "I won't let you down, sir."

"I know you won't." before indicating Harm to her, "And good luck with that one. Dismissed."

The Admiral turned off his desk lamp as the two senior attorneys filed out of his room.

On their way to secure their own offices, Harm leaned in to Mac. "What did he mean, good luck with that one? I helped tonight..."

"After you disobeyed an order, sailor. And don't you try to pull that crap on me. I'm not falling for your charming smile."

"You think my smile is charming?" he said with the very smile she was talking about. Mac kept moving toward her office, trying to hide the all too easy blush that came.

"Don't flatter yourself, flyboy. As it is, I don't think you and your ego can fit through the door."

oxoxoxo

2340 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

The soft knock on the door was surprising, considering the late hour. Mac's eyes went from the file in her hands to the dark paneled door of the Admiral's office. She was acting JAG and today she discovered first hand the possible cause for her CO's baldness.

It had taken all her Marine restraint not to tear her hair out at the roots. The stress of being JAG made her blood boil - legal mistakes, spelling errors, wrong forms being filled and filed... and that was just from the Judge Advocates in this very building. She was surprised that Admiral Chegwidden hadn't set a torch to this place by now.

"Enter." she said and even she could hear the weariness in her voice. The Admiral had another five days leave. This was not going to be fun.

When fun walked in the door.

"Hey, Mac. You're still here?"

Mac sighed when she saw her handsome JAG partner enter. She was not ready to argue with him, and that she guessed was what the Admiral had warned her about. At the end of a long day, facing up to Harmon Rabb Jr. in an arguing mood entailed a sure fire loss. You'd give him anything he asked for so he would leave you alone.

"Yeah. Kinda backed up here."

"I can see that." Harm admired the elaborate if chaotic lattice of paperwork that Mac had created on the Admiral's desk in just one day. He pointed to it, "I see you've got your filing system set up."

"Can I help you, Harm?" she asked, impatience sneaking into her voice.

"Well, I was about to ask if you're doing anything over the weekend, but I can see where you'll be right now."

Mac grunted her frustration and fatigue as she leaned back in the chair. Not even the plush leather seat made her shoulders feel any better - it felt as if a two-by-four had wedged itself between her shoulder blades.

Harm noticed the wince on his partner's attractive face and moved towards her. "Here, let me help."

Her skin tingled the second she felt his strong fingers take their positions on her shoulders, even through her jacket and blouse. She could swear her skin burned everywhere he touched her. His fingers seemed to work liquid magic as the stiffness faded with every gentle caress from his hands.

"Oh God, Harm. That feels so good." she moaned before she caught herself. Damn, that sounded too erotic even to her and she tried to tamp down on it. To no avail as another moan escaped unbridled.

His fingers were masters at their task. As they worked their way down her back, it was all she could do to not spin round and throw herself at him. She wanted his touch everywhere that parts of her literally ached for it. Even parts that had no business being touched while at work. Especially those parts that had no business being touched by a friend.

"Where did you learn to do that, flyboy?" she asked, her voice lilting in between breathless moans.

Harm was trying to keep his touch light as he heard the extremely sexy moans coming from his JAG partner. He was so distracted by her tone that it took him a second to realize she had asked him a question, and another second to realize he hadn't heard what it was. So he asked his own to replace hers.

"How does it feel, Mac?"

His warm breath against her ear made her imagine several different scenarios how this was going to end. All of it involved the rapid jettisoning of clothes... if she didn't put an end to it now.

"Thanks Harm, I really needed that." she pulled out of his grasp half-heartedly and was disappointed he let her go so easily.

"Any time. But what are you doing with all this?" he picked up one of the files and read her notes on the margins.

"Harm, this job is a nightmare. No wonder you bailed on it the minute you got it."

Harm flashed her his killer flyboy grin, a million megawatts that hit her full on. She was glad she was already sitting down, otherwise her suddenly weak knees would have unceremoniously dumped her flat on her ass.

"Well Mac, how about bailing on this Monday?"

Mac sighed dreamily at the thought, before reality intruded. "I can't."

"Want to know how the Admiral clears his desk every night?"

"A bonfire in the parking lot?"

"No." Harm laughed as he leaned in closer.

Mac felt her breath catch in her throat. This close in she could smell his aftershave, and the low rumble of his voice made her ears tingle as he whispered in them. After he shared the secret of the Admiral's success, she sighed, "That's it?"

"Why do you think there's over a hundred of us at JAG? Half of us work while the other half checks our mistakes. So now are you willing to play hooky?"

"Yeah, but I think I'll stay in bed Monday."

"Oh, I have something that's way better than sleep." Harm said, his eyes gleaming knowingly.

oxoxoxo

MONDAY  
1446 ZULU  
LEESBURG AIR FIELD

Joe Noonan, Harm's old mechanic friend smiled when he saw Harm enter the hangar with the pretty young thing in tow. Even Joe had to admire and congratulate the young man on today's choice of companion.

"They get more beautiful every time, don't they?" Joe said leaning in close to Harm as the stunning brunette openly admired the yellow Stearman that was Harm's pride and joy.

When Harm didn't respond, Joe realized that while the woman was busy admiring the plane, the pilot was busy admiring his passenger.

'Hoo boy. Guess this was going to be one of those 'overnight' flights.' Joe looked at Harm's reaction to his passenger, 'Maybe two nights.' the older man chuckled to himself.

oxoxoxo

1610 ZULU  
APPALACHIAN MOUNTAINS  
VIRGINIA

Mac loved this.

She couldn't stop herself laughing, partly in anticipation as she felt the plane beneath her gradually pull up into a steep climb - Forty degrees, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety... and suddenly they were beyond vertical and looping back upside down.

It was like a roller coaster but without limits and without the predictability of rails. They were making their own path to happiness.

Her laughs turned into a scream - not in fear, but just pure excitement that she could no longer contain. This was definitely one of the most enjoyable things she'd ever done in her life.

She loved this!

Behind her, Harm threw the Stearman into another loop-de-loop, eliciting further screams, laughs and gasps from his passenger. Harm had to admit that he was having more fun than normal too, as if he was experiencing this for the first time all over again, like he was experiencing this flight through Mac's eyes.

He threw the plane into a roll.

"Oh, my gosh!" Mac said excitedly.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it."

Harm smiled at her admission. If this was what she was like just riding in the cockpit, what would she be like if he let her grab hold of the stick.

"Your bird!" Harm said as he let go of the controls.

She turned back to look at him, even though his voice was coming over her headset. "What?"

"You take her." Harm put his hands behind his head to enjoy the show.

"Her?" Mac wondered aloud, before taking hold of the flight stick in front of her. It was surprisingly light to the touch, she half expected more resistance. The plane danced shakily in the air as Mac tried to hold her steady. Mac didn't realize it but at that point she had the widest smile she'd ever had on her face.

Harm could almost see her beaming, "Okay Mac, give me a roll."

A burst of confidence and adrenaline pumped through her veins. Now she knew why flyboys were so goddamn cocky, she felt like she could do anything. "Okay, here goes."

She flicked the controls, and the plane flipped over... before it started diving for the ground. Mac's eyes bulged in horror as she tried to flip them back, but the flight stick suddenly weighed a ton. It wouldn't budge! She heard Harm's panicked and long drawn out "Whoa." coming from behind her. That wasn't good.

"Harm?" she tried to keep her voice calm. It was the only thing calm at this point. "Harm!" she called again as she saw the trees grow in size at an alarming rate, and let her screams meld with his.

Then she heard Harm's laughter as suddenly the pressure on the flight stick slackened and the plane rolled back up harmlessly over the tree tops. He was laughing his head off, and Mac would have bitten his head off if her heart wasn't in her throat. All she could do was breathe a sigh of relief and calm her heart down.

When the engine started sputtering and her heart almost stopped again.

"What's wrong?" she called back, and heard Harm's genuine confusion. "I don't know."

"Stop trying to scare me." she said, her hands becoming fists because if he was purposely doing this to freak her out, it was working and her fists would find his face as soon as they landed.

Her heart sank when she heard him reply. "I'm not."

Her eyes darted to the landscape and all she saw were miles and miles of trees covering every square inch of the mountain range. This was not good.

"Can we make it to the field?" she asked Harm, but was secretly begging supreme powers that they could.

Obviously it was God's day off today. "Negative. I've got to put her down."

"Where?"

If she was merely scared before, Harm's silence terrified her.

Then as if the heavens finally heeded her call, a clear expanse appeared from nowhere.

"There! there's a clearing." Mac pointed out the spot to Harm. Who must have been possessed by the devil with his dismissive response, "Not big enough."

She was going to kill him. "It's better than the trees." she gritted out.

The plane sputtered past the clearing, struggling to keep afloat, struggling to clear a ridge of trees. She was convinced they were going to suddenly pitch downwards and be skewered by the large fir trees below.

"Come on, Sarah." Harm begged.

Mac's head jerked up at that and she closed her eyes in prayer. If Harm called her by her given name, they were goners.

"Bingo."

'What?' Mac opened her eyes and saw salvation. A larger greener field than the one she found before appeared in front of them and Harm mercifully let the plane sink towards it.

Mac didn't realize she was holding her breath until she felt the wheels touch solid ground and she gasped noisily, taking in much needed oxygen into her air-starved body. The plane rolled to a gradual stop.

She sat in the cockpit for a second longer as Harm was out of his in a flash, heading straight for the engine. Mac counted down mentally, trying to gain control over her emotions, trying to regain her poise and not allow Navy down there see how badly shaken up this Marine was.

Calm enough to know her knees wouldn't buckle and drop her on her butt, she finally climbed out of the cockpit.

Seeing her, Harm gave her a cocky smile. "Thank God for tailwinds." he said.

"And grassy meadows." she replied, impressed herself by how steady her voice was. "How did you know it was here?"

"I didn't. We lucked out."

Behind her cool facade, dynamite exploded. If she didn't need him to fly them home, she would have used one of the seventeen ways she knew how to kill a man right now. "Lucked out? Why didn't you set it down at the other clearing?" she asked, pointedly.

"I could have squeezed her in, but we'd never get out." he explained like it was the most rational thing in the world. "This clearing's big enough for take-off."

"You didn't even know this clearing was here!" Mac could feel her blood boil and it was taking all her control to not go ballistic on his ass right now.

"I was just... I guess I wasn't thinking clearly."

"Obviously." Mac took another calming breath. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have called me Sarah."

Harm looked at her funny before patting the yellow biplane. "Her name is Sarah."

Mac shot him a skeptical glare. He defended his answer, "It's a coincidence, Mac."

'Whatever' Mac rolled her eyes, as she took in their surroundings. "You carry binoculars?"

Harm was preoccupied with investigating what went wrong with 'Sarah' and answered without much interest, "They're in the emergency kit behind the rear cockpit."

As she moved to find it, she heard Harm curse. "Damn it. The fuel line is split wide open."

"I don't suppose you carry a spare." Mac asked as she found what she was looking for.

"Hardly. I should have seen that in preflight."

At his defeated tone, she glanced over. "You checked the engine. I saw you."

"Not close enough."

Mac couldn't help but take a dig. She knew it wasn't productive, but she was pissed. He almost wrapped them around a tree, so she was well within her right.

"Well it's a lousy time to get careless, flyboy." she said as she looked through the binoculars, taking in their surroundings.

"Yeah." Harm bit back his next words. He knew why he had been distracted, but he could hardly tell her that she was the reason. She'd kill him if he tried to pin this on her.

"I saw a cabin to the left of that ridge we nearly hit. Maybe they have a phone." She started to move out but stopped when she realized Harm wasn't following. She cast him a questioning look.

"First rule of survival. Never leave the crash site." Harm replied, getting to his feet.

"We didn't crash. We got lucky, remember? We have at least five hours of daylight left. If we can't find it, we'll double back."

Harm looked between her and the plane, looking seriously conflicted.

"What? You're afraid someone's gonna steal Sarah?" Mac asked sarcastically.

Harm was silent, revealing that he was. Mac couldn't believe it.

"You are afraid. You know what, I'll go myself." Mac started towards the woods.

"No. We shouldn't split up." Harm quickly caught up to her.

"Why? Scared that your Navy six can't cut it without a Marine Guard?" she growled bitterly.

He was surprised by her vitriol. "Whoa. Where did that come from?"

"What? Your flyboy pride can't handle you had to make an emergency landing?" she sniped.

"Wow, this is the last time I'll take you flying." he shot back.

"Promises, promises."

Harm knew why Mac was acting like a bitch, but did she have to? It's not like he planned for this to happen and her being in an argumentative mood was not gonna help them get out of here.

Mac knew why she was acting like a bitch. And frankly, she was well within her right to. Because if she didn't vent her anger at him verbally, she might actually snap his friggin' neck.

oxoxoxo

The ridge was steeper and higher than it looked. Fortunately for them, it wasn't overrun by greenery so they had a relatively easier time hiking than if they were trekking through jungle vegetation.

Harm looked up at Mac and again was rewarded by the sight of her shapely behind in her light brown pants. Not that it was overly tight, but that woman filled it out quite nicely.

Of course, that wasn't the reason why he let her lead. If she stumbled or lost her footing, he wanted to be behind her to catch her fall. The sight of her posterior was just a perk of the job.

"How long have we been hiking?" he asked her.

"An hour and 43 minutes."

"Are you sure you saw the cabin..." he began but stopped when he saw her murderous glare. "You saw the cabin." he conceded.

Just then, the beeper on his belt started ringing. He looked down at it.

"Great." Mac said, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Cellphones don't work but your toy gets messages loud and clear."

Harm stared back at her. "Look Mac, I'm sorry. What else do you want me to say?"

Mac let out a huge sigh. She was aware she was being a bitch, and his attitude had been a large part of the reason why. He hadn't apologized for all this. Not once. Until now.

"Pretty much that. Who is it?" she asked, her tone a little less combative.

"Bud. Well, at least someone will start missing us."

"Did you tell him you were taking me flying?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

He looked back sheepishly. "No. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. You?"

"I didn't think of telling him I was playing hooky, Harm."

Harm took off his cap and ran fingers through his hair, mussing it slightly, "At least the Admiral's not around."

"Yeah, though he'd probably find us armed with just a compass and a rope." Mac replied as she got back to hiking.

"Why a rope?" Harm asked.

"So he can string us up for dereliction of duty. Or desertion."

Harm grimaced at the thought. "You know you don't have to get surly about it."

"Surly?" Mac glared back at him. "You wait 105 minutes for an apology, then tell me if you'd get surly. Must be some kind of record."

"People have gone longer without apologizing, Mac." Harm glared back.

"I meant it's probably the shortest time it's taken you to apologize for anything." she fired back, fiercer than before.

"Whoa, Marine. You _are_ mean."

"Oh, you've seen nothing yet, flyboy."

She finally made it over the ridge, when a gunshot rang out making her flinch instinctively. The sound reverberated through the woods, seeming to come from everywhere.

When Harm finally joined her, she asked, "Hunting season?"

"Not hunting season. Probably target shooting." Harm explained even as he placed Mac behind him and led the way.

Sooner than expected they found a crude road, and were further pleasantly surprised when they saw a game warden's jeep parked in front of a log cabin. They moved quickly towards it.

"Game warden. One of the world's top ten thankless jobs." he said.

"Before or after JAG officers?" Mac asked as she moved around the truck towards the cabin.

"It's a tossup, really." Harm peered into the jeep and took note of the interior. He tried the door but no luck. "It's locked. There's a police radio in there though."

Mac investigated the cabin. Up close, it looked a lot more run down than she expected. Water damage, rotting wood.

"Mac, I wouldn't get too close to that." Harm warned.

She rolled her eyes. "Why Harm? Scared that a serial killer is gonna pop out and get me?"

"No, but people take trespassing quite seriously around these parts."

Mac hadn't considered that. She took a step back. "Yeah, but they wouldn't shoot an unarmed woman, would they?" she asked.

"If they think that'll impress you, they'll do just about anything." Harm smirked, "Come on, the warden couldn't have gotten far."

Harm and Mac walked a little further down the road and saw three hunters hunched over some disturbed ground. Harm called out to them.

"Hey there."

That startled the three, but just as quickly, one of them - from the looks of it, the oldest one - turned round to greet them.

"Howdy." said the middle-aged hunter.

"Is that your cabin back there?" Mac asked.

"No, I think it's abandoned. We just thought it could be a good place to camp out. How'd you find it?"

"Lost, I'm afraid. Our plane had a mechanical."

"Yellow biplane?" the hunter asked, having seen it fly by earlier.

"That's us, yeah. Had to set her down someplace quick."

The hunter noticed Harm's flight jacket just about the same time Mac noticed that the other two hunters were milling about with shovels and some freshly dug ground. She didn't know much about hunting, but she knew that digging traps wasn't part of the deal here, not when you were also armed with hunting rifles.

"You a military pilot?" the middle aged hunter asked Harm.

Harm smiled and introduced himself. "Navy. Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb. This is..."

"Sarah." Mac cut in. Something about this felt hinkey and she didn't feel like exchanging information to trade Christmas cards with these guys. She wrapped her arm around Harm's, surprising him.

"Girlfriend?" the hunter asked Harm with a suggestive smile.

"We're not putting a label on it just yet." Mac replied.

"You guys wouldn't be able to give us a ride into town, would you?" Harm asked.

The hunter looked back at his buddies, before turning back to Harm. "Sure..."

"I would hate to put you out. I mean we could probably catch a ride from the game warden. That's his jeep back there right?"

"No, it's mine. Bought it in auction. Didn't bother to repaint it."

Harm eyed the man skeptically. "But you kept the police radio?"

Harm felt Mac tug at his sleeve as she tried to back them away from this situation. Something was definitely wrong here. Something that made itself known seconds later when one of the other hunters opened fire.

"Kent, get down!"

The shot narrowly missed them and Harm and Mac scrambled back towards the road.

"I think they killed the warden. It looked like they were burying something." Mac said as they ran.

"Must be poachers." Harm had an idea and ran to the warden's truck. He grabbed a rock and smashed the window, before unlocking the door.

"What are you doing?" Mac asked before she saw Harm get under the steering column, grabbing the solenoid and dragged the trucks ignition wire across it.

"I'm trying to hotwire the truck. You ever boosted a car before?" He asked her.

"No." though in her past life she had cruised in a stolen vehicle or two. She never regretted not learning how until now.

"Damn, this isn't working." All Harm was getting for his troubles were sharp electric shocks to his fingers.

Bullets slammed into the car, shattering windows and sending glass everywhere. Mac pulled open the door to the backseat and grabbed the tool kit she saw lying on the floor. She rooted through it and found a weapon.

Harm saw her pick up the red flare gun. "What are you doing?"

"Returning fire."

"With a flare gun?"

"You got anything else?"

Waiting until there was a natural lull in the gunfire, she took a breath, popped up and fired off a flare. It almost hit one of the poachers - the one named Kent, which sent all three ducking for cover.

Mac reloaded for another shot while Harm abandoned the hotwire. He pulled on the hood release lever.

"Mac, cover me."

"What are you doing?" she whispered back harshly.

Harm ducked under the hood and pulled on the truck's fuel line. Meanwhile, Kent had just about enough of this, and returned with his shotgun. His shot punched through the steel frame of the truck, hitting Mac. Her sharp scream drew Harm's attention. He found her curled on the ground, clutching her thigh.

"Mac!"

He rushed to her and saw her try to keep from screaming, trying to bite back the pain. He slung her over his shoulder, the pain of that movement was almost too much for her to bear.

"Jesus, Harm." she groaned.

"I know Marine."

Gasoline from the now ruptured gas tank spilled on the ground, flowing towards the poachers. Harm saw it, saw the approaching poachers and grabbed the flare gun. He fired off a shot at the fuel.

It caught fire instantly and almost caught the poachers when it leapt to life. It was enough to make the poachers dive back for cover, and Harm, with Mac on his shoulder took the opportunity to make good their escape.

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**


	16. Ep 08: Full Engagement (Part 2)

**AN:** Here is part 2 of Full Engagement.

* * *

**Episode 8:  
**Full Engagement (Part 2)

1900 ZULU  
APPALACHIAN MOUNTAINS  
VIRGINIA

He didn't know how long he had been running and how close pursuit was, but he couldn't keep jostling Mac without checking out how bad her wound was first.

He placed her gently on the rock and with his penknife slit open the bloody pants leg.

"Sorry Marine."

She wasn't fussed about the pants. She was too busy biting back the pain.

Mac said with more than a hint of sarcasm, "Hey Mac, why don't we play hooky on Monday? I'll take you flying. There's nothing quite like it. The open air, the adrenaline rush."

Harm looked at her guiltily, "I'm two for two, aren't I?"

"How bad?" Mac asked, trying to not think about how bad it felt.

"Looks like a buckshot wound. I can't tell how deep."

"Deep enough to hurt like hell."

"Mac." he got her to look at him, "I'm sorry about this..." he apologized before pressing down around her wound. She screamed, and he let go instantly. He could see her trying to hold back a barrage of F-bombs.

"Yeah, the shot missed bone and your femoral artery. That's good, no permanent damage."

"No, just a whole lot of pain and suffering right now." she bit out trying to fight the pain.

"I'm sorry." Harm apologized as he unscrewed the cap of a hip flask and held it in front of her. He explained, "I'm gonna pour this on to sterilize the wound. It's bourbon."

"Harm, I'm not swallowing it. Just do what you need to."

So he poured on the bullet wound and he could hear her hiss as the liquid stung her flesh. He tried to get her mind off the pain as he started bandaging her leg.

"How far do you think they're behind us?"

"I don't know. But they still have the truck." Mac replied.

"We should stay as far away from the road as possible. Keep them on foot until we can circle back and get to the plane."

"What good is the plane gonna do? Is there a machine gun mounted on it that I didn't notice?" Mac asked incredulously.

"I grabbed the fuel line from the jeep. I may be able to use it as a temporary fix."

"Well, it's a good thing we landed where we could take off again."

She sounded sincere, so he took it at face value. "Mac, psychotic poachers weren't my concern when I landed."

She nodded before contemplating their predicament. "Harm. I don't think I'll make it there before dark."

"Then we'll head to high ground and dig in for the night. Okay?"

She looked at him, a little afraid to believe he wouldn't leave her at the next sign of trouble. After all, he wasn't a Marine.

"Okay." she responded plainly. It wasn't like she had a choice at the moment, but she would keep an eye out for his abandonment when it came.

"Can you stand?" Harm asked as he helped her off the rock.

Even a little pressure on her foot made the pain of her thigh worse. She gave up trying.

"I wouldn't mind you carrying me." she said.

"Maybe if you laid off the Beltway Burgers."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"You? No. Those burgers though..."

"Yeah, maybe if you worked out more..."

Harm crouched down in front of her. "Get on." he said. He was going to piggyback her. Mac wrapped her arms around his chest and she felt his hands roam around the back of her thighs until they finally cupped her ass full on. She gasped.

"Watch your hands, sailor."

"Yeah, trust me, I'm not liking this any better, Marine."

Under different circumstances he would have been enjoying this endlessly, but now, no. He got to his feet and resumed trekking.

oxoxoxo

2035 ZULU  
APPALACHIAN MOUNTAINS  
VIRGINIA

Harm struggled to the top of another ridge with Mac still on his back. She looked at him worriedly as he took in another series of laborious breaths, barely able to remain upright much less move.

"Harm, stop it, put me down."

He shook his head, "We... we need to get..."

But she persisted, "Yeah, you dropping dead on me isn't gonna help us either."

Relenting, Harm set her down gently before his legs gave out and he flopped down next to her.

"You okay?" Mac asked, her eyes heavy with concern.

"Those Beltway Burgers are killing me." he cracked.

"One more crack like that and I might kill you myself." she replied jokingly as she let him lean against her.

"How's your leg?" he asked.

"Still hurts like somebody shot it. How about you?"

"Thirsty."

"Have you got anything to drink? Other than bourbon?"

He nodded and she riffled through the small kit they had, fishing out his pack of cigars and a canteen. She handed him the canteen but he offered her first dibs.

She refused. "Heroes first."

Harm took a short swig, before handing it back to Mac who took an equally small share. They didn't have a lot of water, and they both knew they had to ration it.

Harm asked, "How long did we hike along the road before we came to the top of the ridge?"

"Fifty-two minutes."

"So that means the plane is, what, three miles from there?"

"About, yeah."

"Okay. Three miles, plus whatever we climbed..." Harm started working out the math but Mac interjected.

"Or we could just double back and try to take their truck, Harm."

He looked her in the eye. "No."

"No? Why not?"

"I'm not leaving her behind." Harm said.

"Her? You know, I've heard of pilots being in love with their planes but you are getting ridiculous." she fired back.

"It's my dad's plane, Mac."

That surprised her, "Your dad."

"My grandfather earned his Navy wings in a Stearman like Sarah. My dad and I were gonna restore her. But he was shot down in 'Nam."

"So you and your grandfather restored her?" she asked.

"No." Harm stared into the distance but his eyes were glazed over - he was someplace else. "My grandfather was killed flying off the Hornet in '42. My grandmother kept it tarped on the farm."

"After my crash, I spent a lot of time up there. At first, I... I didn't wanna take it off. But when I did, restoring her became everything. It was like... it was like Dad was with me again." he whispered.

Mac envied Harm. He loved his father so much while she and her father...

"With the way that clearing appeared out of nowhere, I think he still is." Mac said solemnly.

Harm turned back to her and chuckled. "He doesn't have supernatural powers, Mac."

"Huh?"

"My dad's still alive." he clarified. "He doesn't have mental powers to make clearings appear out of thin air."

He looked back out at the scenery and saw something move in the distance. He was instantly alert. "Something's moving down there."

"Maybe it's an animal." Mac hoped.

No such luck. "If it is, it's wearing yellow flannel. Come on." he moved to carry her once more.

"We can't outrun them, Harm. You go." she offered, and wondered if he would take this golden opportunity to leave her. Part of her wanted him to say yes, to have him save his own skin and not have her drag him down. The rest of her was terrified he would say yes...

"Like that's really gonna happen." he glared at her.

"I can hide." she countered.

"Mac, they're poachers. They've managed to track us this far, they'll find you."

He got her there. She didn't want him to abandon her, but neither was getting both of them caught the solution.

"Well, I'm open to suggestions, sailor."

"We misdirect them."

"How?"

"Wait here. I'll be right back."

Harm scurried off and soon disappeared from view. Mac slumped down further against the rocks, making herself similarly invisible.

Finding a suitable tree about a hundred yards from their site, Harm unhooked the shiny reflective buckle from his belt. Placing it on one of the branches, he angled it to catch the sun and the poachers' attention, before moving stealthily back to Mac.

oxoxoxo

Mac heard the crunch of boots on twigs. Her head popped up, afraid to make a sound, but needing to see if Harm was back. She couldn't see anything or anyone so she tried to move her head a little higher.

"Harm?" she finally whispered.

She was startled when someone landed on top of her. She saw saw the knife held against her neck and looked up. It wasn't Harm. It was one of the poachers.

She couldn't take her eyes off him as she felt him reach for her jacket zipper, felt it slide open to reveal her flannel shirt. She felt his hand dive inside the jacket to grope her and start undoing her buttons...

oxoxoxo

Harm raced back to Mac's hiding place and stopped when he noticed the gun resting against the tree. Panic gripped him as he rushed over to where he left Mac.

He saw one of the poachers lying on top of her, and it was unmistakable what he was trying to do. Harm felt rage explode in his chest and he grabbed hold of the poacher to destroy him when...

He saw the knife sticking out of the poacher's gut. Harm turned to Mac and she was wide-eyed with panic, watching the poacher as life fled him. Harm quickly threw the body aside, and moved to Mac to make sure she was okay. He held her gently by the shoulders, keenly aware that her clothes were bloodstained, and a button or two of her shirt was undone.

"Mac, are you okay? Mac?"

Mac gradually looked at Harm, the horror still in full effect.

"Mac, it's okay. He's gone. It's over."

"It was... either him or me." she said shakily.

"That's right. He didn't hurt you did he?" Harm hoped he hadn't arrived too late, that the poacher hadn't had time to...

She shook her head, "No."

He breathed a sigh of relief but soon grew keenly aware they needed to get out of here - the other two poachers were not going to be misdirected for long. Harm moved quickly, grabbing the dead poacher's rifle and taking the ammo from the dead man's vest. Finally he returned to his partner.

"Mac? Let's go."

He wrapped an arm around her and helped her up.

oxoxoxo

2335 ZULU  
LEESBURG AIR FIELD

Lt. j.g. Bud Roberts entered the hangar where Harm's plane 'Sarah' was usually parked, hoping for the sight of the yellow Stearman which would signify that the Commander and the Major were back on terra firma.

He was trailed by the case of the day, a young Hispanic seaman named Angel Munoz. A fraudulent enlistee as it turned out because at 16, Angel was too young to join the Navy, and the missing Commander Rabb was supposed to be his legal counsel.

With the kid's hearing set for tomorrow, thoughts raced through Bud's mind a million miles a second. Unfortunately for him, none of his thoughts were going in the same direction, giving him a headache.

The foremost thought in his head was why hadn't Commander Rabb invited him to fly? He had days off and he had so much fun the last time. Sure Angel stated that maybe Harm preferred the company of the Major, and well, there was that chemistry between them. 'Crap, I should have bet on them getting together this weekend instead of next.'

Bud moved around racks of old plane parts and his thoughts calmed when he spied the old mechanic that helped Harm maintain his plane.

"Excuse me sir? I'm a friend of Lieutenant Commander Rabb." At the old man's blank stare back, "Uh, Harm?"

"Oh, yeah. Nice kid. That's a great looking Stearman he's got there."

Bud smiled, remembering the gorgeous biplane, "Yes. I noticed that his car was still parked out front, I take it he hasn't come back."

Joe glanced at the young man stating the obvious. "Boy, you naval officers just keep getting smarter." Joe whooped.

"You don't know what time he took off, do you?"

"Ten. Ten-thirty."

"Shouldn't he be back by now?" Bud asked, getting antsy at the lack of concern.

"I ain't his babysitter."

"Well, a Stearman can't carry seven hours worth of fuel, can it?"

Joe looked at the Lieutenant - obviously not one of Harm's aviator buddies, "Of course not."

"And you're not concerned?"

Joe waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "I saw the woman he was with."

Bud moved to dispel any unfounded rumors, "Commander Rabb and Major MacKenzie have a strictly working relationship."

"Yeah, says you." Joe retorted, not helping Bud's cause. "This isn't the first time he's flown out of here with a pretty girl, and not come back 'til the next day."

"Not when he's supposed to be in court first thing in the morning, sir."

Joe laughed at the thought. Obviously the young man hadn't seen how Harm looked at his lady friend.

"Forget it Lieutenant. He's gone Elvis." Angel turned to leave but was stilled by Bud's hand on his arm.

"No, not Commander Rabb." Bud looked back at the old mechanic, "He didn't happen to file a flight plan?"

Joe shook his head at the young Lieutenant. The officer may be persistent, but boy, he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

oxoxoxo

0023 ZULU  
APPALACHIAN MOUNTAINS  
VIRGINIA

Harm dragged the last pile of branches across the entrance of the small cave he had found. With nightfall sneaking up so fast, he had just enough time to set up camp and find them a place to bed down for the night. The temperatures were set to tumble now that the sun was completely gone and once they extinguished the fire, there was no telling just how cold tonight was going to get.

He turned to Mac who was seated on a fallen log. She had been quiet... very quiet during the entire time he had set up camp, so he had kept up a running commentary in the hopes it'll spark some conversation.

"Well this is our home for the evening." he said. "I'll insulate the inside, but we're gonna have to use our body heat to keep warm."

"Lovely." she said flatly.

Not sparkling conversation, but it was a start, Harm thought. "Might feel differently when the temperatures drop below freezing." he said as he grabbed more leaves to create their makeshift accommodations.

"His blood's not coming out."

Harm looked up from his task and saw Mac fussing with her shirt. "Hey, I'll buy you a new one."

She didn't seem to hear him as her movements and her voice got more frantic. "I can't get it out. Get me some water."

Harm heard the plea in her voice. This was not Mac the Marine. This was Sarah MacKenzie, the woman. He closed the gap between them and stilled her hands, forcing her to look at him.

"Mac, it's okay."

"I can't get it off."

"It's okay, it's okay." he pulled her into an embrace but she fought him off.

"I'm fine. I'm fine, I'm fine." she said as she pulled out of his arms.

Harm didn't know what to do. He didn't dare move away until she was ready for him to leave. Her eyes seemed to be fixed upon the small fire he had made as she finally began speaking, "Did you see his eyes? When he was gonna die?"

She looked at him and Harm could see even in the dim light the horror she must have felt when she had stabbed the poacher.

"Yeah I saw him."

She clammed up again and Harm knew he needed to get her to speak about it. As much as he didn't want to hear about it, she needed to get it out. He looked around the camp and saw two things that were perfect for loosening lips.

One was the hip flask of bourbon. Not an option. The other were his cigars.

Grabbing one he cut it, lit it and once it had a nice glow going, handed it to Mac. It was as if it sliced through the fog of her current state of mind as she glanced at him curiously.

"Take it. It'll keep you warm."

That was a lie, but aside from throwing her in the fire, holding her close or giving her bourbon, there was nothing he could do to warm her. And of the three aforementioned choices, he wasn't sure which would be the least horrible option for her right now.

She sat there and took a few puffs, and Harm admired the fact that she knew enough not to inhale. The calming exercise of expelling smoke regulated her breathing, made her mind clearer, provided some form of soothing effect on her soul.

"I don't know what happened out there. It's not like me to freak out like that." she finally said.

"It's natural."

"Not for me." she looked him right in the eye. It was true. He'd never seen her freak out before. She was always the tough Marine, the rock. Hell, she could stare down the CAG and the Admiral if she tried.

"Mac, you've been through a lot. Stress has to relieve itself one way or another."

She nodded, before she opened up again. She didn't know why she was telling Harm, but she had to tell someone, to get it out into the open before it consumed her within.

"I saw the blood again. I couldn't get that look off my mind. The same look as Eddie."

"Who's Eddie?" Harm asked quietly, hoping that by doing so he wouldn't spook her back into silence.

"He was the closest thing I had to a friend growing up. We were drinking buddies." she took a deep breath as her memories returned her to that horrifying night.

"There was a huge party the night we graduated high school. We both got wasted." she took another deep breath, this time without the cigar. "I don't recall the accident, just the cool passenger window against my face. And then we were on the pavement. There was blood everywhere."

Eddie's face flashed in her mind's eye.

"But the thing I remember most is that look in his eyes. He knew he was gonna die, and there was nothing I could do to stop it."

Mac took another steadying breath, and Eddie's face faded from view. "I spent a week at the hospital until Uncle Matt picked me up."

She fell silent, so Harm filled in the blank. "He took you up to Red Rock Mesa?"

"They say every alcoholic has to hit their own rock bottom. That was mine. Eddie had to die before I finally faced it. In a way, I killed him."

"Eddie killed himself, Mac." he said, "So did that man out there."

"I guess that depends on how you look at it." she said sadly.

"Well, it's my fault we're here in the first place. I should have checked that fuel line more closely. I should have... maybe not approach those poachers..."

"You didn't know they were murderers, Harm."

"Still everything that's happened today is because of me." Harm looked her dead in the eye.

"Let's just concentrate on getting out of here, flyboy. I won't beat myself up if you won't. Deal?" she stuck out her hand to shake his.

"Deal." they shook on it.

She enjoyed another puff of the cigar. "But I can still bitch about freezing my butt off though."

"Quit your whining. You're more insulated than I am."

"Are you calling me fat again, stick boy?"

"Stick boy? I'm just saying women naturally have about ten percent more body fat than men. I don't make the science, Mac."

"Right. Blame science."

Her stomach growled hungrily at this point as if to prove his point. "I rest my case." Harm grinned.

Mac waved a warning finger at him, "Don't think I'm gonna forget that Beltway Burger remark."

"Hey, I don't force you to eat that crap." he laughed.

"Shut up, stick boy."

oxoxoxo

Harm pulled the loose branches over the entrance of the small cave. Despite the insulation, it was still getting chilly and it only threatened to get worse. His breath misted in the crisp air, providing ample evidence this was not going to be a pleasant night.

Satisfied with the cover the branches provided, he turned his attention back to his stricken partner. Mac was currently shivering on her bed of leaves.

He wished he could have kept the fire going but it was too risky - the poachers may have spotted it. It didn't change the fact that she needed warmth and she needed it now.

He lay down beside her, a little shy and a lot unsure how to approach her. She was a Marine and he wasn't sure if it was safe to just grab her unannounced.

"Mac?"

"Hmm?" she raised heavily hooded eyes at him.

"I'm going to hold you."

"That's nice."

He sidled over, putting her head on his arm as the other one pulled her in. He wiped the streaked tears from her cheeks before cupping her face a second longer to capture her attention.

"You okay, Marine?"

"Why don't I shoot you and you ask yourself that question?" she hissed weakly as another lance of white hot pain took hold.

"I'm sorry." he apologized.

"No, I'm sorry. It's not your fault. Just..."

"Just?" he asked concerned as her body rode out the pain.

"I could use a drink right about now." she sighed tiredly.

"Mac."

"Hey, if I'm gonna die, being sober won't matter much."

He looked her in the eye and made sure she looked in his. She was so cold in his hands. "You're not going to die. We'll get through this."

"Promise?" she asked, her eyes never leaving his.

"Promise."

That seemed to give her relief. He pulled her in closer and felt her arm automatically slide inside his jacket and wrap around his waist. Covering her with as much of his body as he could, he maximized their contact, giving her his warmth.

With her head buried against his chest, he heard her murmur. "Thank you, Harm."

Looking down at her tired face he fought the impulse to kiss her. "Sleep tight, Marine."

She was asleep within a minute. Fighting his own guilt and fears, sleep didn't claim him until thirty minutes later.

oxoxoxo

Mac dreamt of Eddie that night. It was probably because of her earlier conversation with Harm. She had told him about Eddie's death, how he had looked when he died. How his death had scared her straight, had been her rock bottom.

But she had also lied - Eddie wasn't just the closest thing to a friend growing up.

Eddie Vogelsong was... beautiful. 6'2" with piercing blue eyes and an Olympic swimmer's body. He was her knight in shining armor - or at least that's what she wanted to believe. He looked out for her like a big brother, protecting her from every sleaze ball who had tried to get into her pants in high school. And she didn't mind his jealous protection because she knew that she wanted to only be with him.

She remembered their constant trips to the old reservoir and lying in the bed of his pickup truck, proceeding to finish up the fresh six pack of beer. Followed by tequila. Chased down by vodka.

Aside from drinking, they talked for hours. In fact that was all they ever did - talk. She had wondered why he hadn't made a move on her. After all, once she had started filling out sometime after her 16th birthday, all the boys at school had started taking notice. And Eddie was a guy.

She wouldn't have said no if he wanted her. If he climbed on top of her. If he made her his. If he was her first. If he was her only. She had read the books, the dirty magazines, she'd even watched some of her dad's old pornos. And while she hadn't practiced, she knew what was expected, the words to say, the general gist of what men liked to hear and feel and wanted. And Eddie was a man.

So it was on that one night, once liquored up enough to be brave, she had tried to seduce him. She had taken off her top for him and straddled his hips, seeking his love to make herself his. To give her body as completely as her heart.

But he stopped her. He stopped her. He didn't want her. The pain of rejection was so sharp she thought she would die... until he immediately explained to her why he had stopped her. And revealed to her why he drank.

Eddie was gay.

He was in love with someone who could never accept his affection, because he was in love with a straight man. So he drank because he needed to dull the ache, giving him courage to continue the charade of his life, dreaming of a fantasy that would never come true, hoping he would one day be free of his misery.

They shared tears that night, both for loves they could never have. She loved Eddie so much it hurt. It hurt even more when she couldn't bear to be with him without being with him completely, so she settled for the next man who even remotely resembled him and wanted her body as much as she wanted to be loved.

She had run to Chris because she couldn't have Eddie. Chris Ragle... the greatest mistake of her life.

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**


	17. Ep 08: Full Engagement (Part 3)

**AN:** The final part of Full Engagement.

p/s: I admit that the additional scenes at the end of this episode were inspired by PeterHalsey's version of Full Engagement in 'JAG Meeting before Rose Garden'.

* * *

**Episode 8:  
**Full Engagement (Part 3)

1104 ZULU  
APPALACHIAN MOUNTAINS

Harm awoke to the first rays of sunlight hitting his face, warming it. He then became aware of the warmth spread all over the front of his body and his eyes blinked open. He found the serene sight of Mac with her head resting against his chest, her eyes tightly closed.

Her breathing was even, which was a good sign, but her temperature was slightly elevated and that wasn't.

Sometime over the night, Mac had wrapped her legs tighter around him, pressing her loins right against his. This was when he became aware of his own stiffened state, one that had little to do with the previous day's exertion, and everything to do with his body's next desired activity.

He delicately extricated himself from her, careful not to disturb her rest. He pushed aside the branches that provided them shelter during the night and moved to stand some ten feet away, facing away from her so she wouldn't see his obvious reaction to her body, the reaction he was now willing to stand down. He heard her stir behind him.

"I was hoping that it was all a bad dream." she said sleepily.

Suitably modest, he turned back to her, his concern for her immediately taking hold. "How's the leg?"

"Good. I can't feel it."

"You need to get on your feet, get the circulation flowing."

"No, what I need is a cappuccino, preferably in a nice warm bed."

He smiled at her humor and he returned her light jab, "Sorry, no room service here."

He helped her to her feet, helping blood circulate through her injured leg. The bandage wrapped around her leg was now a giant rust-colored stain and it worried him. He wanted to redress it, but he had almost no bandage left and they had a long trek ahead. This one was dirty but it was only with her blood. If she got it muddy during their run to the plane, then he needed the remaining bandage to change to immediately.

"You really know how to show a girl a good time. Most guys at least make me breakfast after I spend the night with them."

"Really?" he steadied her on her feet, wrapping his arm around her waist to support her weight. "Well, maybe next time."

She cocked her head at that comment, locking eyes with him.

"Or maybe not." Harm said as he quickly helped her get moving.

oxoxoxo

They heard the barking dogs in the distance. Harm hoped they hadn't caught hold of their scent, but knew if the poachers had found their camp site, then it was more than probable that the dogs could pick them up and were hot on their heels.

Harm lifted Mac safely across the small stream that ran through their path, muscling her from slippery rock to slippery rock in a bid to keep her as dry as possible.

Mac was being stubborn today, refusing his offer for him to piggyback her. Instead she rather grit through the pain of limping while using him as a crutch. He didn't understand why, since it wasn't like he was out of shape...

Okay, he was feeling the effects a little. He hadn't trained to carry 100 lbs of human being (and he was being charitable here) while climbing up and down a mountain ridge, trying not to fall and break their necks, all the while being chased by killers with guns and dogs. His lower back ached, his thighs ached, his butt ached. About the only thing that didn't ache were his arms and he was glad because he was gonna need them to fly 'Sarah' out of here. Both 'Sarah's.

Once across the stream, he glanced over at the flesh and blood 'Sarah' and saw that she was leaning heavily on him, her skin looking wan and slick with sweat. He noticed she was out of breath too and her eyes were struggling to focus. Not a good sign.

"Sit down." he ordered and she complied without even the slightest protest. Now that was a sign that something was wrong.

"I'm gonna check the leg." he started undoing the bandage on her leg and was sickened when he peeled the bandage away. A sticky white residue had formed, making the bandage adhere to her leg. He looked at her face and saw just how deathly pale she had become. He felt her forehead and was not surprised that she was on fire.

"Oh man. You're burning up."

"This ain't no stroll in the park." she shot back but without her usual vigor.

He bent down to taste the stream water, finding it fresh and clean. He quickly filled up their canteen and poured it over her wound, washing it. She gasped in pain.

"The leg is infected. You're gonna need to get to a hospital." Harm said, as he was suddenly flooded with memories of her doppleganger. He tried to shut them out. 'This was Mac,' he told himself, 'she might look like Diane, but she wasn't Diane. She was nothing like Diane. And she was definitely not dying like Diane.'

"You're gonna be okay, Mac." he said more in a bid to remind himself who she was as well as to stave off the encroaching panic that almost gripped his chest. "I'm gonna get you through this. I promise."

He poured the bourbon over her wound again in a vain hope that the alcohol might kill some more germs. Then taking out the remaining loops of bandage he had, he quickly redressed her wounds, ditching the septic one aside. "We should go." he coaxed.

She looked right into his eyes, staying him. "Harm, there's something I gotta know."

"What?"

He could see a myriad of emotions play in her eyes, but he couldn't tell what they were. She wanted to say something, her mouth moved as if trying to form the right words...

The gunshot zinged off the rock just to her side and he instinctively pushed her behind the rocks. She landed heavily and was sure she'd feel the bruises tomorrow... if she survived today. Mac searched the trees across the stream, looking for the shooter. "Where is he?"

"Two o'clock. Two, maybe three hundred yards."

"Son of a..."

"Come on, let's go." Harm wrapped his hand around Mac's waist to help her up. She wasn't moving though.

"I can't. I'm sorry, I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?"

"I'm too tired." she sighed, her aching body screaming for rest, eager for rest, even if it meant she would rest here in a shallow grave forever.

This wasn't happening, not on his watch. He glared at her, "Damn it, you're a Marine. Come on Mac, what happened to that gung ho, semper fi, kick-ass jarhead I used to know. Don't let me down now, Mac. We've made it this far."

Another shot ricocheted off the rock. Harm stared at Mac. Her pride was barely keeping her conscious much less motivated to do anything else. If flattery didn't work, he had to bring out the big guns. Insults.

"Damn it. This is precisely why women shouldn't be in combat, because you just know when it comes to the clinch, they're gonna fall apart. If you were a real Marine..."

"Alright already. Shut up. You made your point." she pushed off on her good leg and with his hand wrapped around her, they scrambled into the woods. He was carrying her now, not that he was complaining, and neither was she which meant she felt far worse than she looked.

They burst through the woods and like a divine sign from the heavens sat the most beautiful thing he had ever seen - his yellow Stearman waiting for them. Harm gently scooped Mac up and placed her in the front cockpit.

While Mac pulled on her headset and goggles, readying for takeoff, Harm rushed to the front of the plane. Reaching in to the engine he quickly swapped out the split fuel line with the one he swiped from the warden's truck.

Just as a shot almost took his head off. Harm threw himself to the ground and saw the poacher named Kent at the edge of the clearing, quickly reloading for another shot.

Using the plane as a shield, Harm shouted instructions up to Mac.

"Mac, there's a mag switch on the left side of the panel." he said as he took aim with a rifle and fired back at Kent, coming close to hitting the poacher. Kent quickly retreated into the cover of the woods.

"You see it?" Harm asked.

She saw it. "Yeah."

"Turn it to 'both' and push the red button."

She did as he asked, "Got it."

The propeller sputtered to life, spinning slowly. Harm called out, "Crack the throttle!" and he hoped to God that she was listening when he showed her where everything was this morning.

When the propeller revved up to full speed, Harm quickly abandoned his position, rolled under the wing until he came to the tail of the plane.

He fired off another shot to keep Kent honest before muscling the Stearman around. Kent started firing at Harm, drawing him into a gun battle. So much so Harm didn't notice that 'Sarah' was already on her way down the field.

Harm fired two rounds, and one of them caught Kent in the chest, felling the poacher. Harm moved to make sure, when he heard Mac call out his name.

"Harm?!"

He turned around and found the biplane already taxing up the field. He ditched the rifle and took off after it. His long stride caught up to the plane handily and he jumped into the cockpit. Catching his breath he maxed out the throttle.

"Glad you could join me." Mac said in relief and Harm grinned back, before returning his attention to taking off.

The bumpy field looked like coleslaw and felt like cottage cheese, which wasn't helping Harm much to keep a straight line to maximize their takeoff speed. But he managed and the plane stayed on course. Still they were approaching the trees at a pretty alarming rate.

"I thought you said this field was big enough." Mac said worriedly.

"I'm an optimist." he said back, hoping he sounded more confident than he actually was.

He fought the flight stick and felt like he was fighting gravity itself. "Come on, come on." he coaxed the plane to break free of the ground.

And suddenly Sarah became unstuck and was airborne. She climbed rapidly, but he wasn't sure it would be rapid enough to clear the 60 foot treetops still in their path. Harm pulled back harder on the flight stick, and the yellow Stearman pulled into a sharper climb.

"Come on Sarah." Mac prayed.

"Climb!" Harm begged.

They were almost at the trees when Sarah just clipped a top branch. But it didn't stop her down and she sailed through to the clear blue yonder. Harm and Mac let out a sigh of relief, and Harm closed his eyes.

He sighed a prayer up to the heavens, hoping that wherever he was, he would hear it. "Thanks, Dad."

oxoxoxo

Harm flew a straight course back to the airfield, radioing ahead for the cops and an ambulance. Done, he turned his attention back to Mac whose head was starting to list to one side in the front cockpit.

"Mac? How are you doing?"

"I think I'm gonna pass out."

"Hang in there." he replied and was rewarded with a very Marine-like if unladylike grunt.

"What did you want me to tell you?" he asked.

"Lots of things."

He decided to be a little more specific, "You asked me something before we were shot at. What did you want to know?"

Mac thought back to her question. "Why Sarah?" she asked about the name of the plane.

Harm smiled. "It's customary to name them after the women we love, Mac."

Mac caught his words, 'Love' present tense, not 'loved' past tense. "What happened to her?"

"Nothing. She lives in Belleville, Pennsylvania."

A hometown sweetheart? "Do you still love her?" she asked in hope that she had misheard earlier.

"I'm wild about her." he teased.

"Oh." Mac felt a little deflated.

"She's my grandmother."

Mac's head perked up at that. She couldn't see his wide grin. Which was fair because he couldn't see her relieved smile either.

oxoxoxo

2127 ZULU  
LEESBURG AIR FIELD

"Hold on Mac." Harm called her name and panicked when she didn't respond.

The flashing lights of the waiting ambulance at the hangar were a welcome sight. The state police was waiting there too and Harm knew they would want his report as soon as possible. They'll have to wait.

"We're almost there. Come on Sarah." he cajoled his plane.

Mercifully, the other Sarah responded this time, perhaps in answer to his fervent prayers. "Harm, promise me something?"

"What?"

"Next time we go flying, you can get shot and I'll fly us out."

Harm laughed, more in relief than genuine amusement, "Sure thing, Marine."

The Stearman touched down smooth as glass. Mac didn't even know they were on the ground until Harm killed the engine, letting the plane coast to a stop next to the ambulance parked by the main hangar. He was out of his seat in a flash but the paramedics still beat him to Mac.

"We've got her, sir." one of the medics assured Harm as they placed her gently on the stretcher and loaded her into the ambulance. He wanted to follow but the state trooper called out to him. "Harmon Rabb?"

"Yeah." Harm responded distractedly.

"Can we go over the shooting in detail..."

"Can it wait? She needs me."

The state trooper looked at the woman in the ambulance and the man in front of him. He had to admit they were a good looking pair and the man's reaction was understandable. "Your girlfriend?"

"My partner."

"Ah!" the trooper connected the dots, erroneously - Life partner. "Go ahead, Mr. Rabb. I'll catch you and your significant other at the hospital."

Harm didn't bother to correct the officer and instead climbed into the back of the ambulance. He saw his favorite Marine clearly for the first time since they took off. She was deathly pale, a thin sheet of sweat soaked her from hairline to neckline and every inch in between. She shivered.

"Mac."

"Is she allergic to any medication?" The medic asked Harm. He looked at Mac desperately, realizing that he really didn't know nearly enough about her.

Weakly, she shook her head no, and Harm answered for her.

"Good. I'll give her a few painkillers as well."

"Thanks." Harm said, as the drugs worked their way into Mac's system. It took a while, but Mac stopped shivering and her breathing began to sound a lot better. Harm held her hand, feeling how cold and small it was in his. He held on to it like his own life depended on it.

oxoxoxo

2300 ZULU  
LOUDOUN HOSPITAL  
LEESBURG, VIRGINIA

Harm had finished recounting the events - from the suspected killing of the game warden and the poachers attempts on their lives to their eventual escape with his biplane - surprising the state trooper with its detail. Harm didn't leave out a single aspect, except for the attempted sexual assault on Mac. He didn't need Mac to be questioned about that, not now, not ever.

The trooper was less surprised to discover both Harm and Mac were members of the armed forces, and he gave his best to the Marine Major lying in surgery before leaving.

After dealing with the authorities, he called Lt. j.g. Bud Roberts - his assistant at JAG and the man who had spent the better part of the last two days paging him. The eager if extremely nervous Lieutenant apologized profusely for his botching of the schedule and the incessant phone calls.

It was only when Harm cut his apology off for the third time that Bud realized there was something else going on. And only when Harm asked Bud for the Admiral's number, did he realize that it was something really important.

Harm dialed the Admiral's cellphone number. It rang five times before the gruff voice of his CO came on.

"Who is this?"

"Sir! It's Lieutenant Commander Rabb, sir."

The Admiral fought the urge to hang up immediately, "This had better be good, Commander."

"Major MacKenzie was shot, sir."

"What?"

"I'm with her at Loudoun hospital in Leesburg..."

"Loudoun? What the hell... what happened, Rabb?"

Harm explained the situation, including how he had convinced Mac to take a personal day from work, taking all the blame. As he started his apology he was cut off by the Admiral.

"We'll discuss your punishment later, Commander. How is she?"

"I think she's still in surgery. I'm not sure what's going on because I was busy with the state police and reporting in, sir."

"Then I suggest you get off the phone and ask about the Major immediately, Commander!"

"Yes, sir!" Harm almost jumped to attention right there in the hospital lobby, when he heard the Admiral's concerned voice. "Commander. Is there anything we can do?"

"Not at the moment, sir. But I'll keep you updated."

"You do that." The Admiral hung up and Harm quickly looked for a nurse.

oxoxoxo

Mac winced at the bright light shining into her eyes. She blinked furiously as her head shied away from the beam.

"Ah good, you're up." Standing over Mac's bed was a pretty blonde doctor in green surgical scrubs. She signed off the chart before returning her attention to the Marine Major.

"Where am I?"

"Loudoun Hospital in Leesburg. You had a nasty bullet wound and infection, Miss MacKenzie."

"Where's Harm?"

"Harm?"

"Harmon Rabb. He's my..."

"Oh, the hunk who brought you in. He's waiting outside." the surgeon waggled her eyebrows at Mac suggestively, "Lucky you."

"Huh?" Mac didn't feel very lucky at the moment.

"Oh, not getting shot of course, but what a nurse to help your recovery. Hubba hubba."

"Doctor..."

"Lee. Dr. Elizabeth Lee."

"How long do I have to stay?"

"It depends on how effective the antibiotics are. You had quite the fever and a slight chill. Of course, that's hardly surprising."

Mac's face crunched into a questioning look - 'Why was it hardly surprising?'

"I saw your underwear, Miss MacKenzie. Not at all suitable for a camping trip, especially up in the mountains."

Mac blushed furiously, "You saw my underwear?"

"The lacy stuff is much more suitable for stay-in-bed adventures, though I don't blame you for your choice when you have a beefcake like that waiting to see it."

Mac's blush seemed to burn brighter. She hadn't planned on wearing sexy underwear, it just had been on top of her pile... 'Oh come off it MacKenzie, you knew what you were doing.'

She had no intention to seduce the handsome Commander Rabb, but that didn't mean she didn't have the desire. "He... well... I..."

"Don't worry, dear, I understand. If you weren't with him, I'd be tempted to put on my lacy stuff too." Dr. Lee said with a wink.

Mac wanted to clarify her relationship with Harm, but what was there to explain that a civilian might understand? They were partners of equal rank, both officers and neither in charge of the other, so it's not like they couldn't be together.

But there was that whole being in the same chain of command thing. And they worked together. And the perceived impropriety of them pursuing a romantic relationship. And the risk of punishment, which may lead to her past indiscretions coming to light.

Seeing the faraway look on Mac's face, Dr. Lee asked, "Should I send him in? He's been really worried about you. And does he have an identical twin?"

Mac stared at the doctor who smiled at Mac's worried expression. "Don't worry. While I'm sure every nurse in the building is going to come around to check out your man, I don't think he has eyes for anyone but you."

The pretty blonde winked once more before adding as an aside, "Oh, and if you get the stink eye from any of them, don't worry, they are legally prohibited from killing you."

Dr. Elizabeth Lee's laugh did little to comfort Mac. Harm's presence by her bedside though did.

"Mac, how do you feel?"

"Like I've been shot."

"I'm so sorry, Mac. I should have checked the fuel line."

"We've had this conversation before, Harm." And they did, at their impromptu camp site the night before where they agreed they wouldn't allow each other to beat themselves up over the circumstance, "Now tell me, what happened to the poachers?"

"The troopers are out looking for them. I don't know if I killed one of them myself when we were escaping."

"You're lucky they didn't get you too, flyboy."

"I'm sure if they had, you would have gotten us out even with one good leg, Marine." Harm gave her his best smile.

She smiled weakly back, "Some trip huh?"

"I'll make it up to you."

"How, flyboy?"

"Anyway you want."

Mac's thoughts went back to the fact she had put on her laciest pair of underwear today - which undoubtedly were now ruined. What had she expected to happen today - they fly off somewhere, she takes off her clothes and...

"Mac?"

"Dinner for the next month."

"Got it."

"And help with my cases for two... three weeks."

"Three weeks?" Harm blanched at her request.

Mac played up her pain, "Ow, my poor leg."

"Okay, Mac. Three weeks."

"That was easy, Commander. You're getting soft."

"Only because I learned to never argue with a woman in bed." he said, his eyes glinting with mirth, "Even if it's a hospital bed."

"Hmm..." She suppressed her laughter, finding it painful to laugh at the moment, "I'll try and remember that next time."

His eyes darkened. Mac tried to read them - was it worry or arousal? "Mac?" he said and his tone let her know it was the former.

"Yes, Harm?"

"I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm glad you're okay too."

Harm took her hand in his and Mac noticed the stink eye from one of the passing nurses. She stifled a giggle as she turned her attention back to where their hands joined. And felt the nice comforting embrace of sleep take her over.

* * *

**Next Episode:** Identities (original episode)

**AN:** Originally, the next episode was called 'The Fan'. After writing the episode though, the title didn't fit, so I changed it to 'Identities'. It is still the same episode I always planned to write, just a title change.


	18. Ep 09: Identities (Part 1)

**AN:** Hi everyone. Sorry for the late release of this week's episode. Until day before yesterday, I hadn't figured out how to tell this story at all, much less well. I don't think I've reordered, cut out and completely rewritten as many scenes in a fic before. Even the name of the episode changed - 'The Fan' was a working title.

Thank you to everyone who's read and enjoyed this series so far, because it really makes my day(s) reading your reviews. I read your feedback to keep me going, and I have to admit I'm kind of a needy writer, so I wouldn't mind getting more reviews :D

That aside, I hope you enjoy this episode regardless if you feel me worthy of feedback or not. It is an original episode, and I hope that my efforts hit the mark. :) Enjoy the episode.

**Synopsis:** After the events in Full Engagement, Mac returns home for some much needed R&R. Meanwhile Harm teams up with an old ally to save Bud's career. Harm also picks up an unexpected fan, one which may prove to be more dangerous than he suspects.

* * *

**Episode 9:  
**Identities (Part 1)

1600 ZULU  
NAVAL RESEARCH LABORATORIES  
WASHINGTON, D.C.

The Marine guards moved quickly through the corridors, checking each and every office. They kept their guns holstered - panic was not the purpose of their pursuit.

"Clear." one of the Marines called back as they checked yet another lab, eyeballed all the researchers and found nothing out of place.

Following closely behind them was Marine Lieutenant Colonel Marcus Tucker - a slim man with features so sharp that if life had taken a different turn, he would have earned millions with just his face alone. As it was he exuded a cultured dignified air that even his severe crewcut couldn't hide. Tucker barked, "If he's not in C-3, then he's in Hydrogeology or Gravitational Astronomy."

He didn't slow his stride as he walked into the next lab. Advanced computers blinked in silence, the little pinpricks of light as silent and numerous as the stars the computers here tracked. There were several workstations and taking in the room's lone occupant - a rotund and nervous looking Lieutenant. Col. Tucker pointed his gun at him, prompting the Navy officer to duck and hold his hands up. "Whoa!"

"Rank and number." Tucker ordered as the Marines streamed in after him.

"Lieutenant junior grade." the stocky overweight man ID'd himself. "Number 661-13-8842."

"Arrest that man." Tucker said and the Marines obeyed without question.

"Wait..." the Lt. j.g. stammered out even as he was being taken into custody. "You can't do this. I'm authorized to be here."

Tucker took the man's ID and security pass. "Son, next time you want to pose as a researcher, at least have the decency to know we wear blue, not white bunny suits on this floor."

As the Marines hauled the intruder away, Tucker turned to one of them, "Get JAG on the line and tell 'em we've got a live one." Tucker looked at the ID. "A Lieutenant j.g. Bud Roberts."

oxoxoxo

1700 ZULU  
MAC'S APARTMENT  
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.

The door to Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie's apartment swung open and she entered on crutches. Right behind her was her handsome JAG partner, Lt. Cmdr. Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr. with one hand carrying her overnight bag and another carrying their lunch. He was also trying to help her, but he hadn't evolved a third arm as yet, so he really wasn't helping.

"Harm, I've got this."

"Well, wouldn't want you to fall on your Marine six would we?"

"Harm, if you don't back off, I'm gonna shove one of these..." she pointed one of her crutches at him, "...up your six, then you'll know how much of a pain you're being."

"Fine. But don't expect any sympathy if you bruise your butt due to a poor landing." he said.

"Please, you'd probably find an excuse to inspect the damage."

Harm blushed, "Yellow light, Major."

"Yellow light? Harm you practically groped me on that mountain, and you're throwing out a yellow light now?" she referred to their adventure in the Appalachian mountains where she had gotten shot in the leg.

"I did not grope you."

She remembered his hands touching her rear as she piggybacked on him, "What would you call having your hands all over my butt then?"

"Providing a little friendly support."

Mac laughed, "A little too friendly."

Mac limped to her couch and set herself down ungracefully, sighing as she took a load off. Her thigh was still heavily bandaged, but after surgery to remove the buckshot from her leg, and the ensuing course of antibiotics to clear out her infection, she was finally home. She sank a little more into her sofa with another groan.

"Where do you want this?" Harm asked about her overnight bag and she waved it in the general direction of her bedroom. Right now all she wanted to do was lie on this couch and never move again.

Harm entered her room and placed the bag down by the door. As he was exiting he got his first real glimpse at Sarah MacKenzie's bedroom - he was surprised by how many pillows she had on her bed, as well as the color of her comforter and sheets. She might be a Marine, but you wouldn't know it from in here.

Smiling on his way back to her living room, Harm saw that she had eagerly melded with her couch.

"You okay?" he asked, shaking her from her continued efforts to become a single entity with her sofa.

"Yeah. Just imagining what it'll be like to be back on my feet though."

"You that eager to get back to work?" Harm got her to scoot up and placed a cushion under her foot on the coffee table, making it more comfortable for her.

"Why? You miss me already?" she asked in a teasing tone.

"Are you sure it's not the other way round?"

She rolled her eyes, "You keep thinking that, flyboy."

They shared a friendly smile, knowing that all this banter was just fun and games between them. It's not like they were imagining each other naked, or thinking about how if her leg wasn't hurting, they might actually be doing a little something more fun.

"You up for lunch now or later?"

"I'm always up for lunch."

"Figures." he said with an exaggerated sigh as he picked up the paper bag and moved to her kitchen to set up their meals.

"Harm?" she called from the couch.

"Yup?" he asked as he pulled out a couple of plates.

"Thanks for getting me from the hospital."

She sounded so cute the way she said it, so he teased back, "What, no thanks for visiting you everyday? And sneaking you food?"

"Why should I thank you for that? You didn't sneak in any of the food I asked for."

"Mac, I'm not getting you Beltway Burgers while you're lying in a hospital bed."

"I'm not in a hospital bed now."

Just mention of the phrase 'bed now' had him imagining her in bed now and that played even worse havoc on his senses. She was sexy, he knew it and he was sure she knew he knew it. "You know if you don't lay off those burgers-"

Harm's phone interrupted him. He answered it. "Hello?"

His CO's gruff voice came over the line, snapping Harm to attention, even though his CO wasn't there to witness it. Chegwidden demanded his immediate return. "Yes sir. On my way sir." he replied, but the Admiral had already hung up.

"The Admiral?" Mac asked.

"Yeah. Ever since I got you shot I've not been his favorite person." Harm smiled ruefully as he set lunch down in front of her. "Gotta go, so rain check on lunch?"

"You're still bringing dinner right?" she asked.

He shook his head, laughing at how unbelievable her appetite was. "You and your stomach Marine. Eat lunch and we'll talk about dinner later, okay?"

"You know where to find me."

"See you later, Mac."

Harm left the apartment, closing the door behind him. Mac sighed as she finally looked at the food he laid out. Then she shouted at the door, "Harm! This is salad!"

oxoxoxo

1745 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

As soon as he was out of the elevator, Harm made a beeline straight for the Admiral's office, and was surprised that there were two Marines standing by the door. Harm glanced at the Admiral's yeoman - Petty Officer 2nd Class Jason Tiner, who informed him, "The Admiral said to go right in, sir."

"Thank you Tiner." Harm said automatically as he opened the door, casting a sideways glance at the two Marines.

Harm entered to find the Admiral standing there with a Marine Lt. Colonel and a Lieutenant j.g. in cuffs.

Seeing him, his CO Admiral A.J. Chegwidden waved him over. "Commander."

Harm came to attention before them "Sir."

"At ease. This is Colonel Marcus Tucker from the Naval Research Labs in D.C. Colonel, Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb." A.J. gestured to Harm.

The Colonel acknowledged Harm with a nod, when there was a knock at the door. Lieutenant j.g. Bud Roberts popped his head in.

"Sir you wanted to see me?"

"Come in Lieutenant Roberts." A.J. said and Bud entered..

Marcus Tucker looked at the young lieutenant. "Roberts? A relative?"

"Oh so much more." A.J. said cryptically before turning to the prisoner. "Identify yourself."

The prisoner wasn't cooperating, until he noticed that Lt. Col. Tucker wasn't about to ask as nicely. "... Lieutenant J.G. Bud Roberts. Number 661-13-8842."

"But I'm 661-13-8842! I'm Bud Roberts."

"We know." A.J. said without mirth.

Tucker looked at both portly young Lieutenants in shock. "What's going on here?"

"What do you think is going on here, Colonel?" A.J. locked him with a steely glare.

"Sir, that man is clearly an impostor." Harm appealed on Bud's behalf.

"So then who is he, and why does he have all of Lieutenant Roberts' identification?" Tucker handed over the photo ID, dogtags, and other such accoutrements in a plastic evidence bag. Harm inspected them, they looked real. "These were good enough to get past four levels of security."

"A spy?" Harm offered.

Tucker nodded, "Can you think of any other reason to be in a research facility with fake ID?"

"I'm not a spy." the prisoner piped up worriedly.

"Well, I'd hardly think you'd admit to it now would you?" Tucker said.

"Does he know what the punishment for espionage is?" the Admiral turned to the prisoner.

The prisoner gulped, obviously he did. But just in case he didn't, A.J. spelled it out for him. "It's life imprisonment. And that's if we're feeling lenient."

The prisoner caved. "Look I'm not a spy. I was just looking for evidence."

"Of what?" Tucker asked.

"Extra terrestrial life."

The answer stunned all of them temporarily. Harm was the first to recover. "In the Navy?"

"Look, for years you guys have been hiding the truth about the existence of alien life."

"Flying saucers are the domain of the Air Force." A.J. stated mirthlessly.

"Yeah, but not everything they shot down crashed on land. The world is 70 percent water. The odds are good you guys found something out there."

"What's your name?" Tucker asked.

"Ronnie Richards."

"The UFO guy?" Bud blurted out, prompting all the senior officers to look at him.

"You know him?" Harm asked.

"I know of him sir. He's one of the more vocal proponents of the theory that alien technology was used to inspire twentieth century inventions, sir."

"I mean how else can you explain how we went from first flight to putting men in space in 50 years? It took us fifty years just to figure out how to make a good car."

"So human ingenuity is the product of alien technology?" Tucker asked condescendingly.

"You can mock me..."

"I think mocking is the least of your problems. You've just admitted to breaking into a government facility to steal top secret information." Tucker said sternly.

"I didn't take anything, honest."

"I think that's for us to decide." Tucker said ominously. Tucker turned back to A.J. "One more thing, sir. Until this matter is resolved, we're going to have to ask that Lieutenant Roberts, the other one, be prohibited from entering any other military installations."

Harm once again rose to Bud's defense, "But sir, they obviously have the impostor."

"And the Lieutenant knows him. How else did the impostor have such a detailed set of credentials?" Tucker asked.

"He knows of him." Harm said.

"So claims the Lieutenant." Tucker fired back.

"Sir, I've never seen that man before in my life." Bud said vehemently.

"Well, obviously he, or his contacts have seen you. Same height, same build, same hair color. You can hardly dismiss it as a coincidence."

"Sir, Bud has done nothing wrong." Harm continued his defense of the junior officer.

Lt. Col. Tucker turned to the Admiral, "I'll leave it to you to decide, sir. However, be aware that if any evidence of Lieutenant Roberts' complicity in this matter arise, we might not be so gentle the next time."

He spun round crisply and Harm could almost swear he marched the prisoner out of the office. Once the Colonel was gone, Harm turned back to his CO.

"Sir, you can't believe that Bud is guilty do you?"

"No, Commander. But then again, we have no idea who or what we're dealing with. If there's another security breach where Lieutenant Roberts goes next, he'll be the one leaving this office in cuffs." A.J. considered both sides of the argument. If Bud was suspended, then it went on his record. But if Bud was arrested, he'd have more than just his record to worry about. A.J. came to a decision.

"Lieutenant, you are relieved of duty."

"Sir!" Harm began to protest but was silenced by the Admiral's diamond hard glare.

A.J. continued, "I believe you have fourteen days leave Lieutenant. Until we can clear this matter up, I recommend you take this time to catch up on your law studies. Leave your security badge at the door."

Bud look pleadingly at both senior officers before responding sadly, "Yes sir."

As Bud marched out, Harm could see the younger man tear up. After the young Lieutenant exited, A.J. turned to his senior attorney.

"Commander, you will lead the investigation on our side. Find out how Lieutenant Roberts had his information stolen and who stole it."

"Yes sir."

"And try to be quiet about it. The last thing I need is for a Marine to show up and tell me how to run my office. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

oxoxoxo

2100 ZULU  
BUD'S APARTMENT  
SUITLAND, MARYLAND

Harm climbed the narrow stairwell of the barely maintained apartment building. It wasn't a slum - the apartment building Harm called home was technically more of a slum than this was, but it was evident that the building's owners had also long given up repairing anything beyond the superficial.

He moved out of the way as two 11-year olds ran down the stairs with their basketball, screaming and shouting excitedly all the way. Harm looked up the stairwell to see if anyone else was incoming. When he saw the coast was clear he continued upwards.

He finally stood in front of apartment 305 and knocked on the door. A man in his 20s with a mop of curly blonde hair, dressed in a suit way too expensive for the apartment opened the door.

"Can I help you?" the man asked.

"Does Lieutenant Bud Roberts live here?"

"Bud? Hey, Bud! Company!" the man shouted into the apartment before stepping out past Harm. "He's in there."

"And you are?"

"Carl Clarkson, Bud's roommate." he smiled, showing perfectly capped teeth. He noticed Harm's questioning gaze at his sharp $500 suit. "Political aides don't get paid enough to stay on Capitol Hill, but we still have to dress the part."

"Ah." Harm nodded knowingly.

"Anyway, gotta go myself. Senators apparently don't like being made to wait." he said as he flashed another easy smile before disappearing down the hall.

Harm entered the apartment and took in the decor.

It was evident that as sharply dressed as both Bud and Carl were, they obviously didn't carry that philosophy into their home life. Which was surprising since Bud was military hence cleanliness must have been drilled into him from boot camp. Meaning Carl was probably the more likely reason why this place looked like a sty.

Bud exited his room and was surprised to find Harm there. He quickly apologized as he moved to clean up. "Sir! I'm so sorry for the mess sir."

"That's okay, Bud. I came just to check up on you."

"Thank you sir. I'm... I'm fine sir."

"So this is casa de Bud."

"Not really sir. I'm just subletting a room from Carl, so this out here is all his. My quarters are this way."

They entered Bud's room which to say was small was being generous. But it was neat and it was bigger than either of their quarters aboard aircraft carriers, so both had learned to make do with much less.

"I'm sorry for how small it is sir."

"We've both lived in much smaller shoe closets, Lieutenant." Harm said as he took in the room.

Aside from the single bed, there was a small closet in the corner where Bud hung his uniforms, a large duffle bag where Bud kept his clean laundry, (or dirty, who could tell?) and a lone desk set up in the corner with a laptop and about five law textbooks on it.

"I can't imagine you entertaining in here."

"Well sir, I watch movies on my laptop and I can play games so I don't need much."

Harm gave him a confused look. "I mean entertaining guests Bud. Women."

Bud blushed. "Well sir... I'm not in a relationship."

"What about that cute ensign you met on the Seahawk?"

"Harriet Sims? Sir, we're just friends."

"That was a very friendly kiss she planted on you."

"Well, sir, it's not that different between you and the Major."

Harm quirked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Bud turned several shades of red, "I don't mean to imply you kissed the Major, sir. Not that I know if you did or didn't, and it's none of my business if you two kissed, or didn't kiss, but..."

"Spit it out, Lieutenant."

"What Harriet and I have is very similar to what you and Major MacKenzie have, sir."

Harm stared at Bud and shook his head, he was not going to get into that whole thought process. "Let's focus on what's really important here. I'm trying to help you get your job back."

"Yes sir."

Harm looked around the room once more when a brochure with a Navy logo sitting on Bud's desk drew his attention. He picked it up to read.

"Let The Journey Expand. What's this?"

"Oh, that's a new Navy website. It's a really cool idea, sir - it allows you to keep track of all the people you've ever served with."

Harm looked skeptical. "How?"

"It's the internet sir. Now anyone with a computer and a modem..."

"I'm well aware of how the internet works, Bud. I mean the website."

"Oh!" Bud looked positively chagrined as he went into the explanation, "Well, first off you register and you fill up details of your various deployments. Then when somebody puts up their profile that matches your deployment date and locale, you're alerted and you can invite them to chat... that's talk online, sir."

Harm froze him with a steely glare - he knew what a 'chat' was too.

Bud reddened further in embarrassment. "Or they can send you a private message, or even an email to reconnect with you, sir."

"So it's like a... address book?" Harm asked.

"Well more complex than that sir, but the principle idea is that."

"How does it work?"

Bud pulled up the website on his laptop, showing a professional and crisp design. Harm leaned over Bud as the young Lieutenant logged in to his profile.

"Well, first you fill in all your details, sir. Name, rank, current station, service number, medals earned..."

Realization came to Harm and Bud simultaneously as they stared at the screen. The blood drained from Bud's face.

"How many people have access to these details, Bud?" Harm glared at the screen.

"On our side, no one, sir. But on their side... everyone!" Bud howled.

"How many people are on this?" Harm asked Bud urgently.

"The website has only been up for a couple of months, but we've been telling everybody about this." At Harm's look of impatience, Bud jumped to the answer, "Maybe four or five thousand, sir."

"Four or five thousand people?" Harm's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"At least."

Harm had his cellphone out and got Tiner to patch him through to the Admiral. Soon he heard the Admiral gruff voice on the line. "What is it, Rabb?"

Harm spoke grimly. "Sir, I think we've got a bigger problem than we first anticipated."

oxoxoxo

0200 ZULU  
MAC'S APARTMENT  
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Mac flopped back on the couch, covered in a sheen of sweat. She sighed, completely breathless and satiated. "Wow, sailor. That was something else."

Harm could only pant in response as he wiped the tiny sweat beads forming on his brow. He looked up at her and smiled.

Their eyes locked, and a smile curled her lips, "So, you ready for more, flyboy?" she asked huskily.

Harm's eyes bulged at her suggestion. He finally managed words, "Mac, you just finished!"

"Yeah, but it was so good." she raised her eyebrow at him, daring him to disagree.

The slow smile that formed on his face showed that he didn't. "God woman, you're gonna be the death of me!"

"Chicken."

"Mac, I'm not the one who begged for mercy the last time."

"Ah, that was because you had your mouth full, sailor." she teased. "And don't think I've forgotten that remark about sweating off the pounds."

"Oh, and who was the one writhing all over the place shouting 'oh God, oh God'? I swear Marine, your neighbors are gonna complain."

"As I recall, Commander, you were pretty vocal yourself."

Harm raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. "I don't know what you mean, Marine. I keep my praying on the inside."

Not having an immediate comeback, Mac stared down at her beautiful JAG partner with a satisfied smile on her face. Then the giggles started, and pretty soon they were both laughing.

Harm pulled himself up from the floor and picked at the spicy Mexican chili dish that Mac had convinced him to try. They were both seated around her coffee table where dinner lay mostly finished.

"So what did you think of the vegetable chili?" she asked.

"God, you weren't kidding when you said it was spicy. I like the name though, 'chili non carne'." Harm said, and seeing her bemused expression quickly added, "And it was delicious."

"Good. Then I didn't give up beef for nothing." she sighed as she closed her eyes and rubbed her stomach contently. Harm couldn't help but admire how cute she looked that way.

'Well, she was more than cute. She's beautiful.' Harm thought as he continued admiring her. He had recently begun to recognize all the things that made Sarah MacKenzie, Sarah MacKenzie. For the longest time he had trouble seeing beyond the superficial and could only see how very much she looked like the woman he had once dared to love.

Now though, he began to see more and more of the differences, how Sarah Mackenzie's skin was just that little bit darker, how her jaw was a little more angled and how it led into a slightly cuter chin. Mac's eyes were also a little darker, which made them more exotic and mysterious than Diane's light brown eyes that sparkled with mirth and joy.

And that was reflective of their personalities. They weren't exactly night and day, just that Mac was slightly more intense and disciplined, while Diane was more subversive and...

"Penny for your thoughts?" Mac interrupted his analysis, startling Harm. He quickly smiled to cover his initial shock.

"Only a penny? Kinda undervaluing my worth there, Marine."

"What can I say Harm? You have cheap thoughts... but okay I'll bite. A nickel for your thoughts."

"Was thinking about Bud's case." Harm lied, but figured it was one of the better ones he could have come up with.

"What did the Admiral say?"

"He's had to press the panic button and talk with SecNav."

"Ouch." Mac winced at that thought, pitying their CO. "Are you still on the case?"

"I don't know, but since it's identity theft, maybe not. This might go to the FBI computer crimes division."

"I feel bad that we can't do anything for Bud." Mac tried to get comfortable but grimaced as her leg refused to cooperate. She groaned in pain.

"What's up, Marine?"

"Stiff foot. Just a little cramped." she tried to massage it.

Harm popped up onto Mac's couch and took her foot in his hands. He started running his fingers over her bare sole.

"Harm... Oh god." she moaned when he found exactly the spot that was giving her so much trouble.

"Better?"

"Yeah." she said and leaned back on the sofa as the tension seemed to flow from her body. "Higher." she sighed and his hand obliged, moving over her ankle to start on her calf.

"You know if the Admiral ever fired you, you'll always have a fall back career here."

"Oh, like anyone would want a massage from me."

"Harm, there's probably not a woman on earth who would turn you down."

"Really? Including you?" he asked lightheartedly as his fingers continued massaging her tense calf.

"Well, if you continue touching me like that, I wouldn't mind handing my body over to you."

It was a long second before she realized how her words could be interpreted. She stared at Harm who was trying his best not to look either embarrassed or laugh his ass off. She wagged a warning finger at him. "Not a word, flyboy."

"About what, Marine?" he asked in feigned innocence.

Her eyes narrowed, "You know, if my leg didn't hurt I'd drop kick you right about now."

"Well, guess I'll have to keep my hands to myself then." Harm said with a smile while setting her foot down. He stood up, "Sides, I should be going anyway."

"Yeah, it's getting late." Mac stared up at him. "Want me to walk you to the door?"

"Very funny, Marine. You stay put." Harm started clearing up the table.

"I've got to lock up anyway." she said sitting up.

"I could lock up and drop the keys back in through the mail slot." he suggested.

It wasn't the worst idea she'd ever heard. "Yeah, that could work. Help me up."

He came over and pulled her up from the couch. A thought occurred to him. "Should I help you into bed?" he asked.

Mac replied offhand, "I think it's a little too soon for that don't you think?"

Harm looked at her as if she'd just grown a second head. Mac couldn't blame him because if she was able to look at herself, she'd be giving herself the same look.

"Geez, Harm I'm kidding." she covered quickly with a well placed eye roll. "You really do have a dirty mind."

Harm tried not to blush, but the reddening of his ears gave him away. "Well, that's the last time I help you get up from anywhere then Marine." he said as he handed her her crutches. He helped her to her bedroom door anyway.

"Don't be such a baby." she stuck her tongue out at him.

He laughed, shaking his head at her childishness. He turned to go wash the dishes.

"Leave it. You can get it tomorrow when you deliver breakfast." she said.

"Breakfast!" Harm whirled back around and stared at her. He never agreed to breakfast.

"You owe me one from the night we spent in the mountains." she pouted.

"How could I forget?" Harm sighed before moving to the living room to gather his stuff, "So is seven o'clock too early for you?"

"You're really going to buy me breakfast?" she asked surprised.

"Well, if you prefer me cooking it, I'm gonna have to insist on spending the night." he teased, making Mac blush furiously. Harm laughed, "Now who's got the dirty mind?"

She bared her teeth at him, "Just for that, I expect the ultimate breakfast."

He thought about it a second, "Bacon on everything?" he guessed.

"You know me so well."

"Only because you're predictable, Marine. You sure you're okay there?"

"Why? You wanna tuck me in?" she asked, her eyes glinting sassily.

"Ha! You'd like that wouldn't you?" he smiled and quickly shut the door behind him before she could throw something at his head. He locked up and dropped the keys back into her apartment.

"Goodnight, Mac." she heard him say through the mail slot.

"Goodnight Harm." she called back. Suddenly she was aware of how empty her apartment felt. She sighed, before she limped into her cold dark bedroom.

oxoxoxo

Harm stepped into the elevator in Mac's building when he heard a woman calling out to "Hold it!"

He quickly held the door open and when the doors slid open once more, a cute redhead in her mid-twenties rushed in.

"Thanks." she smiled at him and he nodded. The light freckles on her face gave her a wholesome look, while her long hair tied up in pigtails actually made her look much younger than her age.

"You're welcome." he replied, not really paying her much attention.

She stared at him, taking in his uniform. "You in the Navy or something?"

He turned to her and gave her a casual grin, "Yup. Navy."

"You must work with Sarah."

His surprise must have shown because the redhead quickly explained. "I'm her neighbor. Same floor, not next door."

"Ah." Harm smiled, a little friendlier now.

"Is Sarah okay? I saw her using crutches."

"She will be in a few weeks." he nodded, easing her concern.

"Oh. And you are?" she asked.

It was then that Harm realized they hadn't been introduced. "Harmon Rabb, Mac's... Sarah's friend."

The redhead looked him up and down. "Boyfriend?"

"No. We work together." he explained.

"Oh." the redhead quickly stuck out a hand to shake his. "Donna."

"Hi, Donna." he shook the proffered hand lightly before falling into silence... that lasted all of three seconds.

"Sarah's pretty." Donna said quietly.

"Yeah." Harm couldn't help the smile that graced his lips before his brain caught his words. His smile disappeared, "I mean, she's a good friend."

Donna though caught his unguarded expression, "You like her, don't you?"

Harm didn't know how to answer that. Mercifully, the elevator doors opened. Unmercifully, it was neither his nor her stop. Harm stared out at the empty corridor.

"Kids play with these things all the time." Donna said as she reached over to press the button to close the door. Her movement though took Harm a little aback because she actually leaned against him to do it. Harm quickly stepped back from her.

"So you didn't answer my question. Do you like Sarah?" Donna asked, still standing uncomfortably close to Harm. Harm gave her his best flyboy grin, and responded vaguely, "She's a friend."

The elevator pinged and this time Harm was in luck. "My stop." he said as he tried to find a way around Donna, not wanting to brush up against her in any way.

"Oh." Donna said before stepping out of his way, letting him out. As he walked away, he glanced back and saw Donna openly admiring him. He shot her a smile and a casual salute before stepping out of the apartment building.

Donna admired the retreating sailor with a sexy grin. Her eyes took in every inch of his muscular frame as she held the doors open until he finally disappeared from view. She leaned back letting the doors finally close and sighed deeply. Finally she reached over and pressed the button taking her back to the fifth floor.

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**


	19. Ep 09: Identities (Part 2)

**AN:** This is the second part of my original episode 'Identities'.

* * *

**Episode 9:  
**Identities (Part 2)

1400 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Harm entered the Admiral's office and immediately detected that the Admiral wasn't in the best of moods, something extremely evident by his curt greeting. "Ah, Commander. So good of you to finally join us."

_'Us?' _he wondered but answered, "Sorry sir. I was just following up on Major MacKenzie's and Lieutenant Roberts' conditions sir."

"I don't remember appointing you their social worker, Commander." The Admiral was in a mood.

"Ah, no sir." Harm nodded and wisely shut up. He marched right up to the Admiral's desk and was surprised by the woman sitting in one of the chairs in front of the Admiral's desk.

"Sit down, Commander. I trust you both know each other?" the Admiral nodded.

"Commander Rabb." the blonde greeted him with a coy smile. Harm glanced at her collar devices to check her rank. She was a full Lieutenant now.

His mouth widened into his patented flyboy grin. "Lieutenant Austin."

Of course they knew each other. Until six months ago, Lieutenant Megan 'Meg' Austin was Harm's partner at JAG. As good as it was to see her though, Harm was a little surprised that she was back, considering she had just upped and left JAG in the first place. She left after that case in Norfolk - after the murder case of Lieutenant Diane Schonke.

He turned a questioning gaze at the Admiral, who accurately read Harm's question from his expression and explained.

"The Lieutenant is on loan to us from Naval Research. SecNav felt her computer expertise and legal background would be useful on your investigation." he said before motioning for Meg to continue.

"Well, lucky or not, sir, the Commander and Mister Roberts stumbled upon a rather elaborate scam. For all intents and purposes, the website is real - it does everything it advertises itself to do. It really does keep Navy personnel in contact with one another."

"But it's a scam?" Harm asked confused.

Meg pointed out the obvious. "Well, considering they're stealing user identities and using them to enter secure military installations, I think that's a pretty safe bet. We know for a fact they have no tie to the Navy, one of their hosting servers is in Europe and they're bouncing their IP address right across the globe making it near impossible to pinpoint their actual location."

"If we don't know where they are, how can we stop them?"

The Admiral cut in, "That's what you're tasked with finding out, Commander. Find out who, what and where these people are."

"But they could be anywhere in the world, sir." Harm blurted out.

A.J. fixed him with a steely glare. "Then I suggest you start looking immediately, Commander. Dismissed."

oxoxoxo

"Admiral's in a mood." Harm said to Meg as they exited the Admiral's office.

"Well, you spend all of last night explaining the situation to the CNO and SecNav how one website has led to a security breach of epic proportions, and see how cheery you are." Meg said as they headed towards his office.

"It's good to have you back, Meg." Harm smiled sincerely and she returned it.

"Don't get too used to it, it's just one case." Meg said as she looked around the bullpen, "I see things haven't changed much around here."

"Well we do spend more time in court now. Sometimes I miss the days where we catch the culprit and can skip due process." Harm laughed at their year together. They caught terrorists, escaped prisoners, murderers and never had to spend a day inside a courtroom. Good times.

"You're just tired of the paperwork. Heck, you probably miss me because you can't palm it off to me anymore." Meg ribbed Harm, who despite being her superior didn't really pull rank with her. She respected that of him, though she knew that if anyone outside JAG HQ saw it, they probably wouldn't understand.

"Lieutenant Austin."

The sudden greeting made Meg turn. She found that it had come from one of the young female JAG administration assistants, Ensign Nestor. "Welcome back, Ma'am."

"Thank you. It's nice to see things haven't fallen apart since I left." Meg responded with a friendly grin. Soon though she was surrounded by other junior officers who were equally happy to see her. Meg eyed Harm, who had retreated to the safety of his office with a smirk and a wink, leaving her to her public.

"Are you back for good, ma'am?" Nestor asked.

"Not in my plans, Ensign. Why? Is my replacement having troubles with the Commander?"

"Major MacKenzie does try to keep him out of trouble, ma'am."

"They teamed him up with a Marine? I'm surprised they haven't faced off at ten paces yet." Meg said jokingly.

"I'm sure once she returns, the Major might consider it." Nestor made the entire office grin at the comment.

"They gave Harm another female partner?" Meg asked incredulously. "Didn't they get the memo?"

"Apparently the Marines didn't, ma'am." Nestor nodded and smiled knowingly - if there was a woman immune to the Commander's charms, she wasn't in the Navy.

"Well, let's hope for her sake, Harm's mellowed."

The widening grins all around let Meg know that there was as much chance of that happening as the Admiral rediscovering hair.

oxoxoxo

1700 ZULU  
MAC'S APARTMENT  
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Mac stared at her TV and realized that daytime television, while bad was also extremely addictive. She shouldn't be watching it, but she couldn't stop watching it. Jerry Springer revealed another surprise guest - the husband's cross-dressing lover who dressed up to look exactly like his wife... _what?_

The sharp knock on her door broke the show's hypnotic hold on her and Mac was glad for it.

"Coming." she called out as she hauled herself off her couch. The crutches were useful in giving her leverage, though she hated she was so ungainly on them. She hobbled to the door and peeked through the peephole.

A vivacious redhead carrying a casserole dish stood on the other side. Mac opened the door, "Yes?"

"Hi, Sarah?"

"Yeah?" Mac said, eyeing the perky young thing standing in her doorway.

"Donna. I live down the hall." Donna introduced herself.

"I remember. You moved in last month." Mac smiled amiably.

Donna returned it with a brilliant one of her own. "Yeah."

One pregnant pause later, Mac finally asked, "Can I help you?"

"I met your friend Harmon yesterday." Donna said as she took stock of the woman named Sarah.

Mac now really looked at the young twenty-something. The girl was wearing form-fitting exercise wear, revealing that she was quite well put together. And she seemed rather pleasant, so _of course_ Harm would be friendly, Mac admitted darkly.

"I see." Mac answered non-committally as she wondered just how friendly Harm had become with this woman standing at her door.

"Well, I saw him here this morning too..."

"Ah, yeah, he brought me breakfast."

"Wow. I'd kill to have my boyfriend bring me breakfast."

Mac blushed. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Okay." Donna dragged the word out, making her sound skeptical at Mac's reply. "Well, since he brought you breakfast, I figured I'd be neighborly and bring you lunch. Hope you like beef."

As suspicious as she was of Donna's friendliness with Harm, a beef casserole was still a beef casserole. "Love beef. Come on in." Mac stepped aside.

Donna set the dish down on the kitchen counter before turning to Mac, "I brought enough for you and Harm to share."

"Harm won't touch it." Seeing Donna's hurt expression, Mac quickly explained. "He's a vegetarian."

"Vegetarian? Him?"

"I know, right? I don't even know how he can survive eating so few calories a day." Mac took a whiff of the dish. "Wow, that smells amazing."

Donna's cute face broke into a wide grin, "Thanks. It's grandmama's recipe. I make it whenever I'm feeling homesick so it's great comfort food." Donna looked at a loss at what to do next so started excusing herself. "Well, I'll leave you to it."

She turned to leave but Mac felt guilty that she had harbored uncharitable thoughts earlier and invited her to stay instead.

"You know, I wouldn't mind the company for lunch. That is if you don't have other plans."

Donna's grin returned. "I don't. I wouldn't mind joining you."

"Great. I'll just grab the plates." Mac limped into the kitchen.

The redhead stepped in front of her, barring her way, "You'll do no such thing. Tell me where everything is and you just park yourself back on that couch."

"You're beginning to sound like Harm." Mac laughed.

"Harm?" Donna tilted her head, confused.

"Harmon." Mac clarified and Donna's face lit up.

"Ah, Harm. Mmm... perfect name." At Mac's questioning gaze, Donna said conspiratorially, "He's dangerous to a girl's defenses."

Mac laughed thinking about the various heart attacks he had already subjected her to in their short time together as partners. "He's dangerous alright." she said as she shuffled back to the couch.

oxoxoxo

1755 ZULU  
INFORMATION TECHNOLOGY DIVISION  
NAVAL RESEARCH LABORATORIES

"And that's the grand tour." Meg led Harm around the high tech facility that had more security checks than the White House. Harm had to admit, while he wasn't a technology aficionado, he wasn't exactly a troglodyte and he'd grown up on his fair share of science fiction. Still half the stuff Meg showed him in the past 20 minutes sailed over his head.

They were now at Meg's workstation overlooking thirty desktop computers and numerous other servers. However there only seemed to be seven other people who worked there as they flitted from one workstation to another. Meg conferred with some of them as Harm looked at the big high-definition television that took pride of place in the room.

It displayed a digital map of the world with a dizzying network of lines that seemed to cross through ocean and borders with abandon. Harm's questioning gaze at Meg prompted her to explain what he was looking at.

"You're looking at every known submarine communications cable in the world, carrying phone and data through high-speed..." At Harm's 'why does everyone think I'm an idiot just because I'm not interested in this' glance, Meg cut to the chase, "It's what makes the internet possible."

"Impressive."

"It should be. That's about 15 trillion dollars worth of undersea line tying our world together."

"So how are we gonna use this to find out where the website is?" Harm asked as Meg went to her laptop.

"Well, by getting lots and lots of smart people together and letting them loose with computers." Meg's fingers flew over the keyboard, typing out an email.

"What do you mean?"

She read the coded email message and clicked 'Send' before looking up at her old colleague. "We're hacking the website. In about an hour, forty of the world's most tenacious hackers are going to launch a concentrated coordinated attack."

"Isn't that illegal?"

"Compared to what, Harm? A website stealing the information of servicemen?" Meg raised an eyebrow at Harm, who nodded his understanding. Yes this was illegal. Yes the ends justify the means.

"So what now?" Harm asked.

"Now we wait. Get comfy, this might take awhile."

oxoxoxo

Mac had to admit lunch exceeded her expectations. That might not have been saying a lot since she usually didn't expect much, but with how pretty the dish looked, expectations had been set, and the bar had been set pretty high. That it still managed to taste even better made Mac's stomach decide it had a new best friend.

And making the meal even better was there was enough for leftovers, though when Donna found out that Mac would probably nuke the thing to reheat it, she looked genuinely horrified that Mac would subject her grandmama's recipe to such treatment. So Mac agreed that Donna could keep the leftovers at her place, on the promise that they'd be returned to Mac's possession, all nice and heated up, in time for lunch tomorrow.

Mac sat on the couch and stared at Donna, and once again cast a critical eye over the redhead. Donna had that wholesome All-American-by-way-of-Midwest look down pat. Even her name screamed 1950s America. Mac figured by Donna's personality and good looks, she'd probably had it pretty easy growing up - no one looked like a 'Miss Bluebell Cherry Pie Miss America' contestant and had a hard scrabble life, Mac thought grimly.

Mac never had many girlfriends growing up, it was kinda hard forming bonds with girls especially since as a child Mac never really liked them much. Even as a teen she had considered herself a tomboy, and she'd gotten into her fair share of scrapes and fist fights. Her father had taught her how to fight back. Unfortunately, her father also didn't limit using his fists to just punching bags.

She quickly shook off the dark thought and returned her attention to her house guest.

"Thank you for lunch, Donna."

"You're welcome, Sarah."

"Please, call me Mac."

"Mac?" Donna looked as if she had just been insulted. "What kind of name is Mac?"

"My friends call me Mac. After my surname, MacKenzie."

"Does Harm call you Mac?"

"Yeah."

"Then I guess it's alright then, Mac." Donna said the name cautiously as if half expecting it to bite back. Mac smiled at the woman's tentativeness.

"So, what's Harm like?" Donna asked.

Mac felt a little conflicted. While she was tempted to strip away the mystique that was Harmon Rabb Jr, therefore killing Donna's interest in him, Mac also knew short of lying, there was nothing bad she could say about the man who had saved her life and defended her uncle in court.

And if she told Donna the truth about his antics, she knew she'd only make him out as some kind of bad boy rebel - and that, she had no doubt, would only make Donna want him even more.

"He's... an honorable man." Mac finally said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means he's honorable."

Donna looked at her confusedly, "You mean like a judge?"

Mac laughed. "I don't think I'll live to see the day when Harm sits behind the bench." Seeing Donna's continued confusion, Mac decided to be less vague. "Well, what you think of Harm when you see him is what you get."

Mac got worried the minute she saw the sly smile on Donna's face, and the suggestive look in her eye. "So he's tall, handsome, strong, and a passionate lover?"

Mac's eyes almost popped out of her head. "That's what you think of when you see Harm?"

"Don't you?" Donna said as she sipped from her coffee, as calmly as if they were talking about the weather.

Mac tried not to sputter, "It doesn't matter what I think. I know him, I work with him."

"So he's none of those things I mentioned?" Donna raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I wouldn't know." Mac said forcefully.

"Please, you can't expect me to believe you two haven't... you know." Donna gestured in the air, vaguely signifying what 'you know' was. Mac blushed.

"Donna, there's nothing there. Trust me, he's not interested in me in that way at all."

"But you are?"

Mac must have looked like she was having a stroke, because she could swear she was having one. She sputtered and quickly sipped from her coffee cup to fill her mouth with something other than her foot.

Donna gave her a wide smile before curling up more comfortably on the seat. "So do you like him?" she asked.

"We work together."

"That wasn't the question."

"Well, that's the answer."

"Is he seeing anyone?"

"I... I don't know. I've never asked."

"He's very handsome."

"... I never noticed."

Donna stared at Mac as if suddenly discovering that the Marine was legally blind. Because she must be. "Is he not your type?"

Mac realized her coffee cup was almost empty. "Ah, want more coffee?"

"Don't try to change the subject."

"There's no subject. Seriously, do you want more coffee?"

Donna let it go for a second and went to refill both their cups, giving Mac the time to prepare suitable answers for any other questions. Except for the one Donna actually asked.

"So you wouldn't mind if I went out with Harm?"

"What? Why?"

"What do you mean why? Who wouldn't want to date him?"

"I-I mean why would I mind?" Mac covered.

Donna looked at her skeptically once more. "Are you sure there's nothing going on between you two?"

Mac quickly reassured her, "There's nothing. We're just colleagues."

oxoxoxo

"So how's your new colleague working out?"

Harm glanced up from his near empty coffee cup to see Meg looking at him over her own cup. They were sitting around her computer, and have been for the past hour.

"I heard they gave you a Jarhead." Meg smiled. "And a female one to boot. Let me guess, she's probably a leggy blonde."

Harm laughed. "You're the only blonde I've had as a partner."

"Ah, so you don't deny she is leggy?"

"She's tall if that's what you're asking." Harm sidestepped the issue. "Besides, I wouldn't have a new partner if my old one didn't just up and leave."

Meg rolled her eyes at him and went to refill her cup. Harm followed, ignoring the various computer techs going about their business - which was mainly comprised of them hunched over their keyboards clacking away.

"You never told me why you left though." Harm told her.

"Is it important?" Meg asked, concentrating on not spilling the fresh hot brew.

"No, but it would be nice to know."

Meg sighed. She set down the coffee pot and allowed Harm to refill his own. "You want the short version or the long version?"

"Any version. As long as it's the truth."

"Short version, it wasn't you."

Harm looked at her funny - he had never even considered that an issue. "Care to explain?"

"That's the long version."

"I think we have time for it." Harm nodded back at the lab. An hour and still not a blip.

Meg took a sip of the hot coffee and realized she had forgotten to add creamer and sugar to it so it tasted like licking the inside of a carburetor. She quickly dumped packets of both and stirred.

"I guess I just didn't think I had a future at JAG."

"Why?" Harm asked surprised, as he put cream, no sugar in his coffee.

"Harm, I was kidnapped, tortured, shot in the head and almost died Lord knows how many times in one year at JAG. Law is supposed to be safe. I guess I'm just... not cut out for the whole 'Live The Adventure' aspect of the Navy when it includes the possibility of dying during the adventure. And besides, I couldn't take another submarine investigation." she remarked offhand about her crippling claustrophobia.

Harm smiled remembering the very first case they worked together aboard that sub. "Guess not. But I thought we made a pretty good team."

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Only to the ones I like." Harm smiled his flyboy grin that even Meg struggled to remain impassive to. It wasn't that she couldn't be attracted to him, but she also knew that he wasn't the guy she saw herself having a kid with in five years.

A commotion in the lab drew Meg's attention. She rushed back into the room with Harm in tow and stared at the map on the HDTV. That prompted Harm to look at it too. All he saw were alerts and error messages popping up all over the screen. "What's going on?" he asked.

"It's show time, Commander. The hackers have launched their attack against the site." Meg said as more and more errors and warnings popped up. The board lit up like a Christmas tree, with errors blinking in and out of existence in rapid and random succession. "Welcome to the future of warfare, Harm."

And Harm had to admit it looked like thermonuclear armageddon, reminding Harm of the film _WarGames _as silo after silo of attack criss-crossed the globe. It wasn't until ninety minutes later that a technician shouted excitedly attracting Meg's attention. The two former JAG partners quickly approached the young officer, who handed Meg a paper with a bunch of numbers Harm didn't understand. But Meg did.

"Did we find the website?" Harm asked her.

Meg grinned and nodded. "Oh yeah. Ready to skip due process, Harm?"

Harm grinned back. "Always."

oxoxoxo

2200 ZULU  
U.S. NAVAL FORCES KOREA  
SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA

It was six in the morning, and dawn was at least another 20 minutes from introducing itself to this part of the world. In the dim interior, four Marines moved stealthily through the Navy barracks, making sure not to alert anyone to their presence. The unit leader looked up at the door number and motioned for the rest of his team to take up their positions. Then they picked the lock and it swung open without a sound.

The door opened to a young seaman slumped over his computer keyboard, fast asleep as lines of code raced by on his computer screen. When the Marines flipped on the light, it roused him.

"Seaman Apprentice Brandon Hafner, you are under arrest. You have the right to..."

Hafner dove for the inside of his desk drawer to grab a gun but the Marines already had their weapons out...

oxoxoxo

Harm and Meg were waiting in his office for news of the operation when his phone rang. Harm answered it on the first ring.

"Lieutenant Commander Rabb here." he answered curtly and listened intently to the report. Meg wished he had put it on speaker, but in his haste to answer, he forgot to.

"Thank you, Sergeant." Harm finally said before hanging up the phone. He let out a relieved breath and turned to Meg. "They have him." he said with a smile that earned Meg's in return.

oxoxoxo

0100 ZULU  
MAC'S APARTMENT  
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Harm strode into the lobby to Mac's apartment complex with a spring in his step. His case was close to being resolved, and hopefully he'd be able to get Bud his job back soon. About the only bad thing was that Meg would leave again, but she was happier where she was, and he could be happy for her if that was the case.

He gave the kindly old woman stepping through the door a smile, before stepping inside. And was surprised to find Mac standing there in a cute sundress waiting for the elevator. Without her crutches!

"Mac? What are you doing out of..." he quickly rushed to her, only to be surprised when she turned around. It wasn't Mac.

"Hi, Harm." the woman smiled up at him.

"Donna?" Harm was taken aback. Gone was the redhead with cute pigtails. Instead she stood there with her hair cut short like Mac's. Exactly like Mac's, down to hair color.

"You've changed your hair." Harm stated the obvious.

"Do you like it?" Donna asked shyly as she looked up at him.

"It's nice." Harm decided to be polite.

"But do you like it?"

"... Yeah." He was polite enough to lie. On Mac, he loved it. On her... not so much.

He must have pleased her with his answer because she positively glowed, "Good. Say, what are you doing for dinner?"

Harm looked a bit embarrassed by her forthrightness. "Erm, I'm sorry, Donna. I have other plans."

Donna's smile faded immediately, "Mac?"

"I sorta owe her a month worth of dinners." Harm explained, and he did. He promised Mac a month worth of dinners after their ordeal in the Appalachian mountains.

"Oh." Donna said sadly, but perked up just as quick. "Maybe another time?" she asked hopefully.

Harm tacked on his best smile and nodded, "Maybe."

The elevator arrived and Donna entered. She looked quizzically at Harm, "You're not going up?"

"Oh, I just remembered I left something in the car. You go on ahead." Harm said and let Donna ride up alone. Waiting until the elevator reached the fifth floor, Harm then turned to the stairs and started climbing.

oxoxoxo

Harm checked to see the coast was clear before exiting the stairwell. He made his way to Mac's door as quickly and quietly as he could, always making sure that Donna wasn't around. He heard Mac open the door behind him.

"Har-"

He surprised her by backing in and closing the door quickly before he peered through the peephole.

"Harm, what's wrong?" Mac asked worriedly.

"I think there's something wrong with one of your neighbors." he said as he turned to find Mac standing there on her crutches and in some rather cute pajamas. He gave her the once over. "Very cute jammies, Marine."

Mac blushed lightly, "Ah, yeah... What do you mean there's something wrong with one of my neighbors?" she changed the subject.

"Just one of them creeps me out."

"Who?"

"Donna."

"Donna?" Mac's jaw dropped. "Harm, she's a sweet girl."

"No Mac, there's something off about her." Harm protested.

"What did she do?" Mac asked, giving him her best Marine glare.

"She tried to ask me to dinner."

Mac couldn't believe him. "Oh God, Harm! I totally see what's wrong with her now. You wanna use my phone to call in an air strike?"

"No, Mac. It's the way she asked."

Mac was in no mood for Harm to regale her with how another woman had asked him out. "C'mon Harm, way to overreact. You're afraid of women asking you out now? Or is she not pretty enough for you?"

"Mac, she cut her hair like yours."

That caught her by surprise, "What?"

"She has your hair style."

"And that's why you're not going out with her?" Mac asked incredulously.

"No, Mac. There's just... Come stay at my place, at least for tonight."

Mac was stunned by his offer. "Wow. Seriously?" she asked disbelievingly.

Before he could ask again, there was a knock on her door. "Mac?" Donna's voice came through.

Mac moved to answer it but Harm tried to stop her, "Mac, please."

She glared up at Harm, and used humor to disguise the turmoil his earlier invite had caused. She was tempted, yet at the same time... "Harm, if you just wanted a Marine guard to stand watch at your place, all you have to do is ask and not come up with crazy excuses."

"Mac." he tried to stop her again but she pushed him aside and opened the door.

To find Donna standing there holding a large tupperware, with her shoulder length red locks framing her cute face. Harm stared at her - '_what happened to her hair?_'

"Hi, Mac." Donna greeted her.

Mac turned to shoot Harm a pointed look before returning her attention to the redhead. "Hi, Donna. You remember Harm?"

Donna looked up at him as if she just realized he was there with casual indifference. "Hi Harm. Say, Mac, I've got some leftover pasta I thought we could share, but if I knew you had plans with Harm..."

Mac smiled, "No, in fact Harm's just leaving."

"Mac." Harm didn't want to leave her alone with Donna.

"What now, Harm? Scared old Mrs. Jenkins from across the hall is going to ask you out next? Get over it flyboy." Mac said with more than just a hint of annoyance.

Harm looked from Donna's red hair to Mac's hairstyle. He could have sworn that Donna's hair was like Mac's in the lobby downstairs, but, surely she couldn't have changed it back in an instant, right? Maybe he had imagined the whole thing...

He realized that Mac was expecting him to leave. He nodded sadly before walking out of her apartment. "Take care, Marine. I'll call you tomorrow?"

Mac couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at hearing his tone, "Sure." she answered quietly and watched him leave. But Donna soon took her attention away from the handsome sailor.

"I'm sorry if I ruined your plans."

The Marine smiled at her neighbor. "Don't worry about it. We'll survive." Mac said good-naturedly.

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**

**AN:** According to her Wikipedia, Meg supposedly asked Mac to be assigned as Harm's partner - but I don't remember that in the show. If I'm not mistaken Clayton Webb had arranged it - trying to use Mac's relationship with Matt O'Hara and getting her to lead the FBI to Matt's militia.

Additionally why I don't think Meg was responsible for getting Mac assigned as Harm's partner is because she saw Diane Schonke. There's no way she'd be that cruel to Harm. Meg however did help Bud get assigned as Harm's assistant.


	20. Ep 09: Identities (Part 3)

**AN:** Thank you for your awesome reviews everybody. You guys make it easy to want to keep writing. :) This is the final part of the episode 'Identities'. I hope you like it.

* * *

**Episode 9:  
**Identities (Part 3)

1300 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Harm entered his office to see Meg seated in front of his desk reading through the case files. He smiled.

"I could get used to this."

"Nice try, Commander. But I rather like my current office. You guys don't even have an ISDN connection."

"A what?"

"Exactly."

She looked up to see the styrofoam coffee cup in his hand. "For me?"

"Shouldn't junior officers get their own?" he asked.

"I'd drink the filth you call coffee here, but I value my insides too much. Sir." she grinned.

Harm handed her his coffee as he took a seat behind his desk. "What are you looking at?"

She sipped the latte, glad for the pick me up. "Just wondering how seaman Hafner did it."

"Did what?"

"Well, he was stationed in Korea."

"Yes?"

"How did he get hold of Bud's ID while he was stationed there? I mean yes, he had all of Bud's information, but you can't exactly issue a replacement ID in Korea and get it shipped all the way back here, right?" Meg asked.

Harm saw what she was driving at. "You mean he has an accomplice."

"Also consider that of all the thousands of users on the site, no one other than Bud has reported having their identity stolen. Not to mention somebody had to have physical access to the papers and ID. Somebody had to have collected the money."

Harm considered her words. "There's one person who would have the answers."

Meg's brow furrowed, "Who?"

"Come on." Harm was out of his seat and out of the office before Meg could even set the files and her coffee down. She hurried after him.

oxoxoxo

Looking through the one-way glass, Harm and Meg witnessed the surprising resilience of Ronnie Richards first hand. Lt. Col. Tucker was there with them, and even his estimation of the rotund civilian had increased - as did his frustration. He removed his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"He won't give up the person who sold him the ID. Have to admit, he doesn't look like much, but he does have backbone." Tucker said.

Meg looked at the Lieutenant Colonel. He was striking, his handsome features obviously the product of a long line of mixtures, undiminished by age. "Perhaps you're going about it the wrong way, sir." Meg said.

Tucker trained his gaze on Meg, "We can hardly beat it out of him."

Meg grinned at the Colonel's masculine approach to problem solving, "I mean we can coax it out of him, sir."

"How?"

Meg asked for his glasses, "May I?"

The two men wondered what she had in mind when she put on the thick rimmed glasses and undid the top button of her uniform. "Meg?" Harm was alarmed at his former partner's behavior, but Col. Tucker took in the young Lieutenant's appearance and found she had transformed from smart Naval officer to sexy librarian in an instant.

She entered the interrogation room and Richards' was suddenly interested in answering all their questions. Tucker laughed at the turnaround. "I can see they teach a few things in Annapolis that we don't in Quantico." he said appreciatively.

Harm replied with his own grin, "Well, I wish the Academy could take credit for that, sir, but that's all Meg."

"You're very familiar with your subordinate, Commander."

"Well, when you save each others lives a couple of times, you tend to get close."

"Close?" the Colonel cast a critical eye over the tall former aviator, and Harm recognized the unasked question in the Colonel's eyes.

"Close but strictly platonic, sir. She's more like a little sister." Harm answered.

"So she's with JAG, is she?"

"No, she's on loan to us from Naval Research in D.C."

Tucker looked surprised at that, because that meant she worked where he worked.

oxoxoxo

"Mister Richards?" Meg asked in her best stern librarian's voice as she pretended to be engrossed in reading Colonel Tucker's notes.

Ronnie Richards stared at the vision. Her blonde hair and her golden complexion seemed to gleam even under the sterile fluorescent lights. His eyes were mesmerized by those geeky glasses and how her blue eyes peeked shyly out through them. He allowed his eyes to dart downwards to her throat and revelled in the sight of the exposed vee of her collarbone.

He gulped. "Y-yes?"

She looked up from the notes, "You understand that you're facing life imprisonment charges, correct?"

"Yes."

"Of course, you understand with your cooperation we can stop future security breaches, and perhaps we can look at reducing the charge."

"Yes."

Meg peeked furtively through the glasses, trying to hide the fact that she couldn't see out of them at all. "So you see, you wouldn't just be helping me, but yourself if you help us, Mister Richards." she said silkily.

"Yes." Ronnie sighed as he stared at the beautiful blonde.

Meg smiled and she slowly removed her glasses. "So, if there's any information you'd like to share, Mister Richards..."

"What do you want to know?" Ronnie said without hesitance. He was well and truly hooked.

oxoxoxo

Richards blabbed rapidly, giving Meg whatever she asked for. Once back in the observation room, Meg quickly straightened up her appearance and handed the glasses back to the Colonel.

"Perhaps I should request your assistance at future questionings, Lieutenant." Tucker smiled his appreciation.

She grinned back at him, eying his handsome features again. "Perhaps, sir."

"What did he say?" Harm asked returning them to the case at hand.

Meg spoke quickly, "Seems that he never met the seller per se. They did all their business online."

"That doesn't help us."

"No. But he did mention that he met the middle man. The guy he paid and who passed him the documents on Capitol Hill."

"Middle man?" Harm asked.

Meg described him roughly, "Male, about six feet tall, young looking, curly blonde hair, expensive suit..."

An image solidified in Harm's head and he turned to Meg, "I think I know who he's talking about."

oxoxoxo

1600 ZULU  
BUD'S APARTMENT  
SUITLAND, MARYLAND

Bud Roberts quickly tried his best to clean the mess that was Carl's apartment, yet at the same time mindful not to move anything of Carl's too far from it's original position. He was trying to create space for Meg to sit.

"It's okay Bud, I'm fine standing." Meg said, prompting Bud to stop.

"Where's your roommate, Bud?" Harm asked.

"Carl? He went out for coffee, sir. Are you sure you don't want any? I could go get..."

"At ease, Lieutenant." Harm said firmly, but instead of powering Bud down, it only seemed to wind him up.

"Yes sir. Sorry sir, I'm just... nervous. I mean, what if I can't go back to the Navy?"

"I wouldn't worry about it Bud. We've almost cracked the case." Harm reassured the young man.

"Did you catch the guy behind the website?" Bud asked eagerly.

"Oh yeah, though Meg should take the credit for that."

"I just devised the trap, Commander."

"So if you caught the thief, I can go back to work soon, right?" Bud's eyes sparkled.

"Well, we're not sure if he's the thief, Bud..." Harm said before realizing someone had joined them. Bud's roommate - the young, about six feet tall, curly haired blonde named Carl - stood at the doorway with his cup of coffee. He eyeballed all of them.

"Carl Clarkson? We need to talk." Harm said.

Carl nodded in understanding, just before he threw his coffee at them, upended the untidy shelf by the door and bolted. Harm quickly climbed over the mess to give chase.

By the time Harm exited the apartment, Carl was bounding down the stairs, surprising the other tenants when he blew past them at top speed. Harm however was no slouch and he blasted past the shocked tenants at greater speed, gaining on the senator's aide.

Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Meg turned to Bud. "Bud, do you have a fire escape?"

Carl burst through the backdoor of the tenement and raced up the alleyway. The door was still swinging when Harm burst through himself and looked around for the escaping culprit. He saw him and resumed his chase. Carl glanced over his shoulder and saw that in a straight line the Navy officer had him beat.

Distracted he didn't see the thick lawbook that fell from the sky and almost beaned him. He jumped aside and stared up. That was all the distraction Harm needed to catch up and overpower the aide, sending him tumbling into the pile of trash bags on the street.

"Carl?" Harm stared down at the winded young man. "We need to talk."

As he hauled the blonde senator's aide up, Harm looked up and saw Meg leaning over the fire escape, looking down at them. She gave him a little wave and her usual grin. Harm smiled back, then glanced down to check on the lawbook that she had dropped earlier. It looked no worse for wear.

"Maritime law?" he asked.

"It was the thickest." Meg replied helpfully, eliciting a wide grin from Harm.

oxoxoxo

Harm and Meg sat at the large table in the JAG conference room with the Admiral and another JAG attorney.

Lt Cmdr. Alan Mattoni was one of the more experienced attorneys at JAG HQ, and while he had his own office at the other end of the building, it irked Mattoni that it was an office _at_ the other end of the building. Deep down, Mattoni didn't really hate Rabb for his superstar status and meteoric rise, but that didn't mean he didn't resent him either.

After all, Rabb got all the best cases - and Harm had an office close to the Admiral's, meaning that he was also constantly in the Admiral's view, being able to shine, being able to continue earning those big career-making cases.

As such, Mattoni, while he didn't mean to, still did treat Rabb like an adversary.

Harm briefed the Admiral, "Bud's roommate confessed. The website provided Bud's identity to the buyer, while Carl used his job as a senator's aide to create all the paperwork in getting the impostor his documents. They were using Bud as a test case."

"Wrong place, wrong time?" A.J. asked.

"More like wrong roommate, sir." Harm replied with a wry grin. "However, Carl's not going to get to choose his next roommate. He's facing some serious prison time."

"What about the hacker?" Chegwidden asked.

"Well sir, he wasn't a hacker. He's a website programmer... " Meg started to explain, and realized it didn't matter what they called him, they all knew who the Admiral was referring to.

A.J. took it in stride, "Yes, thank you Lieutenant. How's the case against him?"

Mattoni spoke up, "We're moving ahead with Articles 32 and 106a..."

Harm's ears perked up at the second UCMJ charge, "Espionage?" You're charging him with espionage?"

"Consider the facts, Commander," Mattoni said stiffly, "He acquired deeply personal and detailed information about our naval forces across the globe, and was selling it for profit."

"He didn't sell it to a foreign power." Harm protested.

"That we know of. Considering now we'll have to review security clearances for over 5,000 Navy personnel worldwide, he's wasting enough Navy resources for us to tack on sabotage as well. Or are you willing to just let him off with a slap on the wrist because he looks young?"

"He is young. The kid is nineteen."

"And that 'kid' with a single computer could do more damage than you and a hundred Tomcats." Mattoni fired back.

The Admiral held his hand up to stop their bickering when the conference room door swung open behind him. The Admiral turned towards it and glared at the intruder. The intruder however was used to A.J's glares.

"Webb!" the Admiral spat out, "What's the meaning of this?"

"Sorry to interrupt," Special Assistant to the Undersecretary of State Clayton Webb said, without any actual remorse, "but we're here to take custody of Brandon Hafner."

"Under whose authority?" A.J. raised himself to his full 6'3" height to stare down at the short fancily dressed man from State. Webb whipped out papers from his jacket pocket and handed it to the tall Judge Advocate General.

"Under the authority of the Secretary of State, and the Department of Defense." Webb answered.

Meg leaned in closer to Harm and asked, "Who is that guy?"

"Clayton Webb. State Department." Harm whispered back.

"Which state?" Meg asked jokingly.

"Unfortunately for us, this one." Harm joked back.

"What do you want with him?" A.J asked the State Department lackey.

"He's a person of interest." Webb answered with spy double-talk.

Meg though knew why and answered the Admiral. "Sir, Seaman Hafner created an impressive information gathering resource that got our Navy personnel to share private information. If we can replicate his success with other navies..."

"You're going to use him as a spook?" Harm glared at Webb.

"I don't have to dignify that with an answer." the overly slick secret agent replied.

"He's going to disappear isn't he? He's not even gonna get a trial." Harm asked.

Webb didn't nod, he didn't have to. "Rabb, we're entering a war zone where no defenses have been created. A kid like this, if he's not on our side, will eventually wind up on someone elses. He could be a superweapon. He could invent the computer equivalent of the A-bomb."

"So he's our generation's Oppenheimer?" Harm asked.

"Let's hope so." Clay said plainly.

Meg however piped up, echoing all their sentiments. "But let's hope we don't ever have to find out."

"Well, until then, I don't have to hand him over to you." A.J. shoved the transfer order back at Webb.

"What? You can't disobey a direct order."

"Seaman Apprentice Brandon Hafner is a member of the United States Navy, and until he's discharged from service, he remains a member of the United States Navy. He doesn't take his orders from you, and neither do I. Unless that paper was signed by the President, the SecNav or the Chief of Naval Operations, I don't have to do anything but go about my day."

Webb glared at the JAG. "You know you're only stalling for time, Admiral."

"And I take great pleasure in wasting yours as you obviously do wasting mine. Now get out of my office before I stop being so patient." A.J. said, his voice hard as steel, quickly convincing Webb that perhaps it would be a good idea to leave.

"This won't change things." Webb warned before he left. The four naval officers looked at each other, knowing Webb was right. He'd get the necessary signatures and there was nothing they could do about it. Unsure how to proceed with this new predicament. A.J. decided standing there wasn't going to provide any answers.

"Await further orders before proceeding with the case." he said as he turned to leave. He looked back at Harm, "And Commander, get Lieutenant Roberts all the paperwork he needs to resume duty ASAP."

"Yes sir." Harm responded and the three junior officers snapped to attention as the Admiral left.

Meg then turned to Harm, "So, I guess that's the ball game?"

Harm looked at his former partner and nodded sadly, "I guess so. I guess this is good bye?"

She looked at him before giving him a genuine smile, "How about, 'til next time, pardner?"

He grinned back, "'Til next time, pardner."

oxoxoxo

2100 ZULU  
MAC'S APARTMENT  
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Mac struggled to open her eyes, but she managed to. She looked around and found herself lying on her couch. She saw the half finished pot pie on the coffee table and saw that she was still in her pajamas. A quick check of her internal clock told her it was just after 4:00 P.M.

She tried to rise but her body wouldn't cooperate, the desire for sleep still keeping a strong hold on her. She turned bleary eyes upwards and saw Donna looking down at her, removing her red wig to reveal short neck length brunette hair - exactly like Mac's.

Then Mac realized the enormity of what she was seeing. Donna was wearing a Marine uniform. _Her_ Marine uniform. With her hairstyle. Donna was assuming Mac's identity.

"Hi, Mac." Donna said without a hint of a smile.

"Donna?" Mac asked groggily. She tried to move her body but she felt so sluggish.

"Don't worry, Mac. I didn't want you to hurt yourself so I gave you something to help you sleep." Donna said kindly.

Mac looked at the pot pie on the table.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" Donna asked as she fingered the buttons on the uniform.

"Donna, what are you doing?" Mac asked hoping to stall for enough time as her body warmed up for action.

"Do you think Harm will like the uniform?"

"Harm?"

"He won't love me until you're gone you know." Donna said sadly.

"Who?"

"Who else? Harm." she sighed, "What a perfect name."

"Donna, Harm and I..."

"Are friends." Donna completed the mantra she'd been hearing for days.

"Yes." Mac answered steadily.

"Lover friends."

"No."

"Do you love him?" Donna asked in an almost childish whine.

"No." Mac said firmly.

That made Donna's expression harden. "Then you're playing with his affections."

"No, Donna." Mac tried to explain, but Donna wasn't listening.

"If you don't love him, then you must be punished!" she reached for the prone Marine.

Mac swung her crutches and caught Donna's knee, sending the former redhead crashing to the ground. Mac used the opening to make good her escape. She threw open her door and limped on one crutch towards the elevator.

Donna rubbed the pain from her knee and looked around frantically. Mac had escaped. Donna stalked to the kitchen and grabbed the knife there. Then she marched out of the apartment with the blade. The hunt was on.

Seconds after Donna left the now empty apartment, Mac's cellphone rang on the coffee table.

oxoxoxo

Harm was behind the wheel of his Corvette as he tried calling Mac. He was on his way home but when she didn't answer again, Harm quickly changed course.

oxoxoxo

Mac rapidly tapped the elevator button. "Come on, come on." she prayed but the elevator didn't seem to hear her. Mac stared behind her, knowing full well Donna wasn't going to be in a talking mood if she caught up to her. Mac then saw the stairs.

She limped down the stairs as quickly and as quietly as possible, hoping that her crazed neighbor didn't follow her here. She rushed down, cursing the fact she lived on the fifth floor, cursing that she didn't believe Harm's warning. She could have spent the night in his bed, instead of running for her life. Or hobbling for her life as it seemed.

Mac almost fell once or twice, her need for speed almost ending in disaster thanks to her ungainly use of her crutches. But she made it to the lobby in one piece. She opened the stairwell door.

And Donna was standing there. "Miss me?" Donna asked as she pressed down hard on Mac's wound, causing blinding pain so sharp it overpowered the Marine's senses. Mac blacked out.

oxoxoxo

Harm rushed to Mac's apartment and knocked loudly on the door. "Mac!" he called to her, desperately hoping everything was okay.

The door opened and Harm's blood chilled instantly. Donna stood there, with her Mac hairstyle and a sexy slinky dress. Harm didn't have time to deal with that now.

"Hi Harm." Donna smiled at him enticingly.

Harm pushed past her, not bothering to greet her, "Mac? Mac!" he shouted her name.

"Harm, quiet. She's sleeping." Donna said, motioning to the bedroom.

Harm lowered his volume, "Is she okay?" he asked deeply concerned.

"She is now." Donna said as she neared Harm and lightly ran her fingers against his arm.

He pulled away. "What happened?"

Donna pouted, "She tried to leave the apartment, and she fell down the stairs."

"What? Mac!"

"She's alright. I got her back. I'm taking care of her." Donna reached out to touch him again.

Harm held her at bay. "Donna... thank you. But I can take it from here."

"I can stay." she pleaded.

"No. I... I rather be alone with her." Harm said.

Donna's mood deflated. "Oh... I see."

Harm felt bad, so he wanted to explain, "Donna..."

"No, I understand. Bye Harm." Donna said as she quickly walked out of Mac's apartment and shut the door behind her.

Harm pushed open the door to Mac's darkened bedroom. He didn't want to stir her so he left the lights off and approached the bed softly. He talked to the form under the sheets.

"Mac, are you alright?"

She didn't respond, so he leaned in closer.

"Mac, I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner. I..."

He touched the shape under the sheets lightly and instantly knew something was wrong. He pulled back the covers to reveal Mac's numerous pillows bunched up together to resemble human shape.

Realization hit him instantly. "Donna!"

oxoxoxo

Mac struggled against her bonds. She was hogtied tightly with nylon rope and dumped on the floor of Donna's rather spartan apartment. Mac cursed that her struggles weren't loosening the knots, instead with every movement, more and more of the tight restraint bit into her flesh and the rough material rubbed her wrists raw. It didn't help that she could still feel the pain from Donna's earlier attack on her thigh.

She tried to break free once again, but was stilled when she heard Donna's door open. Mac lifted her head and saw her captor standing there.

"Mommy's home." Donna said.

"Donna. Please, you don't have to do this." Mac pleaded.

"Oh, I know I don't have to. But I want to." Donna pulled out the kitchen knife she'd taken from Mac's apartment. "You see, with you gone, he'll be sad. He'll need someone to help him through his misery, and I'll be there. And eventually he'll come to love me because I'll remind him of you..."

"Donna, please." Mac tried not to let her fear taint her voice, but it was fast becoming impossible.

"He's too good for you."

Mac decided that maybe if she agreed, maybe Donna would see her as a human being and it'll make her hesitate. "I know." Mac said.

That made Donna pause. "He won't love me until you're gone." she surmised.

"Donna, that's not true. He can learn to love you." Mac lied.

"How can he when he loves you so much?" Donna asked.

"Harm and I aren't like that."

"Then why does he visit you everyday? Why is he so concerned about you? Why does he want to be alone with you?" Donna raised the knife up to stab at Mac.

"Harm... Help!" Mac screamed.

The door burst open and Harm flew in, tackling Donna to the ground. But the psychotic woman drew on hidden reserves of strength and even Harm's physical prowess could barely hold her down. They rolled on the ground, struggling with the blade between them.

When it struck flesh and drew blood. Their struggles stilled.

"Harm!" Mac screamed in horror, fearing the worst.

Harm let go of the blade handle and stood up. He was fine. Donna though wasn't.

Donna turned sad eyes to Harm and Mac, seeming to beg for forgiveness. "For... give. Even... God... forgives." she said and breathed her last.

oxoxoxo

Harm had taken Mac back to her apartment as D.C. forensics worked Donna's apartment. As they sat on her couch, Harm and Mac answered the police detectives the best they could.

The lead detective, an older man grizzled further by working homicide for many years, turned his attention to the pretty Marine Major. "She attacked you?"

"She was obsessed with..." Mac started, but she didn't want Harm to think she was blaming him. It wasn't his fault if Donna wanted his love.

"With?" the detective asked.

"With this fantasy she believed my life was." Mac said instead. "She thought she could replace me."

"Why did she think that?"

Mac shrugged, "I don't know." and Harm gave her shoulder a light squeeze.

"If it makes you feel any better, this probably isn't the first time she's done this." the detective said. From Mac's neutral expression, it looked like it didn't make her feel any better.

"Do you have anyone who can stay with you?" the detective asked.

Mac was about to ask him why when Harm jumped in. "I will, Detective."

The old cop looked at him. "Ah, you must be the boyfriend."

"Friend." Harm clarified, maybe a little too quickly. It didn't go unnoticed by the detective.

He fished out his business card and handed it to Mac as he got up to leave. "Well, Miss MacKenzie, if there's anything else you need help with, call me. Anytime, night or day."

Mac read the name on the card. "Thank you, Detective Coster."

Coster smiled at her, "You take care now." he said as he looked at her a few seconds longer, before exiting her apartment.

oxoxoxo

Harm locked up the apartment and went to turn down the couch. Mac stood by her bedroom door observing him.

"You know you don't have to stay." Mac said, making him turn in her direction. "I'm a Marine." Mac said firmly.

"I know. But I'm sleeping here for me."

At Mac's questioning gaze, he explained. "I need a Marine guard to watch over me, remember?" with his flyboy grin.

His ready and unquestioning acceptance of her stubborn pride broke down another emotional wall and Mac couldn't help but value his friendship even more.

"Are you sure?" Mac asked softly as she studied his sleep attire. He was already out of his uniform and her eyes took in his undershirt and boxers.

"Hey, this way, I don't have to wake up so early to get you breakfast." he smiled before settling on the couch. It looked uncomfortable but he wasn't complaining. He realized she was still standing there, and rolled over to look up at her. "You okay, Marine?"

"Yeah." Mac said shakily. "Good night."

"Good night." he said, seeing her walk into her bedroom. She didn't close her door though, but that was good because it meant he could hear her call if she needed anything during the night. He tried to settle down on the uncomfortable couch once more.

"Harm?"

His head popped up. "Yeah?"

Long seconds passed by in silence. Harm rose from the couch and walked to her door. She was curled up on the bed, her back facing towards him. Her bedside lamp was all that held the darkness at bay.

"Yeah, Mac?" he asked once more.

"Do you think... you could sleep in here tonight?" she asked quietly.

"With you?" he asked surprised, though he kept his voice low so not to spook her.

"Yeah."

He realized she needed to feel safe tonight, and he was only too happy to provide it. "Okay." he answered and crawled in beside her.

He'd held her before during their night in the mountains, but this was a bed - her bed, so he was even more cautious here.

She moved by her own accord closer to him, until her back rested fully against his front. The warmth of his presence calmed her and her body instantly relaxed against his.

"I'm sorry." she sighed, still facing away from him.

"What for?"

"For not believing you."

He wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a light hug. "It's okay. I'm just glad you're safe."

She put her hand over his, keeping his hand on her midriff. "Thank you. she said and squeezed his hand.

"Anytime." and she smiled because she could feel his smile against her hair.

"Harm?"

"Yeah?"

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight Marine." he said as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. He pulled the blanket over their bodies and held her in his arms until they were both asleep.

* * *

**Next Episode:** Washington Holiday (2x09)


	21. Ep 10: Washington Holiday (Part 1)

**AN:** Hey, everyone. Thank you so much for continuing to follow this story of mine and for your reviews. I read each and every one, often multiple times.

Some news - I'm actually in the process of finding a new home, and over the coming weeks, you might see less of me online. As such the updates may be less frequent, which is sad news for me, but I'm sure gives everyone here a much needed break.

The sooner I find a place, the sooner I can start moving, the sooner I can get back online. That's the hope. :) But enough about me. On to the episode.

* * *

**Episode 10:  
**Washington Holiday (Part 1)

1300 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

"Attention on deck!"

Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie was surprised when the Marine Corporal by the door belted out the command when she entered JAG Ops. She was further surprised to find that all her colleagues were standing there, facing her with wide grins on their faces.

"What's this?" she asked as an administration assistant, Ensign Nestor, presented her with a nice floral bouquet.

"Welcome back, ma'am." Nestor said before stepping back and joining the rest of the office in applause.

Mac was speechless, until out of the corner of her eye she saw the tall form of her JAG partner - Lt. Cmdr. Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr. leaning against his office door, arms crossed as he grinned at her. She quickly regained her composure and address her other colleagues.

"Thank you everyone, it's nice to be back." she said, before glancing at Harm. "May this be a lesson to all of you... if you go flying, bring body armor?"

The bullpen laughed good-naturedly and offered their individual well wishes to her before returning to their duties. Mac slowly made her way to her office, but due to the layout of the JAG bullpen, heading to her office without passing Harm's was impossible. He stood there and grinned at her.

"No rousing speech, Major?" he teased as she walked by.

"No, but if you have one prepared, you're welcome to use it."

He followed her into her office and Mac was surprised that there was a fruit basket on her table. She looked back at him and he shrugged.

"It's not mine."

Mac checked the card on the basket. "It's from the Admiral."

"Guess he's trying to tell you to get more fruit in your diet, Marine." Harm smirked, ignoring Mac's pointed gaze.

"At least he got me something as a welcome back gift. What did you, the man who got his partner shot, get me?"

"What? A month worth of dinners and foot rubs not cutting it anymore?" he asked.

"That's punishment for getting me shot, flyboy. That's not exactly a welcome back gift."

"Well, I don't think the Admiral would approve of me giving foot rubs at work, Mac."

"I'm not asking for foot rubs at work, Harm."

"Ahem!"

They both turned at the sound and were mollified to see their CO - Admiral A.J. Chegwidden standing there. He glared at both of them. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No, sir." they both stood at attention.

"At ease. I was just checking to see if the Major received my gift."

"Yes sir. I appreciate it sir. Thank you sir."

"Good. I trust it's not too much?"

"No sir. It's just right sir. Perfect sir."

A.J. nodded amiably before turning his attention to the Major's partner. "Commander, I trust you're not too busy?"

"No sir."

"Good, because I wouldn't want to interrupt one of the Major's foot rubs."

Harm and Mac blushed brightly. "Uh, sir, that was a joke." Mac coughed out.

A.J. eyed them suspiciously but let it slide. "I'm sure. Commander, my office, ten minutes."

"Aye, sir."

The Admiral went to his office and Mac smacked Harm hard on the shoulder. "That's your fault, you know?"

"What did I do?" he asked as he rubbed the spot where she hit him.

"Just get out before the Admiral puts us on KP duty." And as she looked like she might resort to launching fruit artillery, Harm did as she requested.

oxoxoxo

Harm looked between the two men in the Admiral's office - his CO and Special Assistant to the Undersecretary of State Clayton Webb.

Webb was talking, and Harm was surprised that the Admiral didn't actually look like he wanted to strangle the fussy government employee today. Perhaps the Admiral was in a good mood because Mac was back.

"The king and his daughter are only here for 72 hours. During that time, she'll be attending numerous official functions." Webb said as he paced the office. "In a significant political gesture, an American Naval officer has been chosen to be her escort."

"An American Naval Officer?" Harm asked.

"You to be precise."

"Admiral, respectfully, I'm a lawyer. She should have Secret Service protection. They're trained for this sort of thing."

"And the last time I checked, they weren't chosen for escort duty by the Secretary of the Navy." the Admiral fixed him with a steely glare.

In a world gone mad, Harm looked to Webb for some assistance. "Webb, you should get someone who's trained for this."

"True, but if I remember right, you do owe me a favor or two, Commander."

Harm winced. He did owe Clay a couple of favors - one for Mac's Uncle Matt, the other for the Admiral. Which might explain why his CO was tolerating this request.

Clay handed Harm the itinerary. "There's a dinner party at Senator Franklin's house tonight, a tour of Washington tomorrow and on Saturday, the NATO ball where her father hopefully will announce his country's wish to join NATO. The Secret Service limo will pick you up at 1700 sharp. Try not to be late."

Harm eyeballed the sheet of paper with his next 72 hours on it. He looked at the Admiral, "Do I have a say in this, sir?"

"Not if you're smart."

oxoxoxo

Ensign Harriet Sims looked around the very busy JAG bullpen and tried not to get in anyone's way. Unfortunately, by not having anywhere to actually be, she was in everyone's way.

Finally Ensign Nestor approached her, "Ensign, do you need help?" she asked.

Harriet stammered but quickly recovered her poise. "I'm looking for Lieutenant Roberts."

Nestor saw that the stocky Naval Officer was in Major MacKenzie's office, obviously helping her catch up on her case load. "The lieutenant is in conference right now. Is he expecting you?" Nestor asked the blonde.

"I wanted to surprise him." Harriet said plainly.

"Well, doesn't everything pretty much surprise Bud?" Nestor asked.

"I guess so." Harriet sighed sadly just as another familiar face came round the bend. "Sir? Commander?" she called out to him.

Harm heard his title being called and looked up from his itinerary to see the petite blonde Ensign in front of him. The first thought that went through his mind was _'how did he know her?' _and the second thought was _'did he sleep with her before?'._

The third thought was her name. "Harriet?"

"Yes sir. I'm so glad you remember me, sir." she said with a smile.

And just as suddenly Harriet realized that those words made her the center of attention of all the women in the bullpen. It didn't take a genius to realize they were all wondering the same thing - _'where did the tall gorgeous Lt. Cmdr. remember this short mousy-looking Ensign from?'_

Before she could clarify her statement, Harm responded, blithely unaware of the stares all around them, "You're a long way from the Seahawk. No trouble I hope?" he asked.

"No sir. I've been reassigned. Norfolk."

"Long trip out here just to see us."

"Ah, well, I was hoping to meet Bud. I mean Lieutenant Roberts."

"Oh." Harm glanced briefly at Mac's office and then back to her. "Funny, he didn't mention you were coming."

"The lieutenant doesn't know, sir."

Harm smiled and motioned for her to follow him.

oxoxoxo

Mac noticed Harm's presence at her door and looked up. She saw him with the cute blonde Ensign and her first thought was _'did women just show up at JAG to admire him?'_.

Her second thought though remembered who the Ensign was. She saw them approach and she called out to warn Bud.

"Bud, incoming. Eleven o'clock." she said.

Bud looked up at her quizzically and then at his watch. "No ma'am, it's only..."

"Mister Roberts?" Harm called.

"Yes sir?" Bud looked at him and saw... "Harriet!"

He got to his feet dumping all the folders on his lap on the floor. He dove to the floor to gather the files, "I mean Ensign Sims."

"Get off your knees, Bud." Harm said, and Bud jumped back up with a "Yes, sir!" but he looked embarrassedly between the files, him and Harriet and back again.

"You look wonderful, Harriet." Mac complimented the increasingly embarrassed Ensign.

"Thank you, ma'am." she responded, trying not to reveal how bad she felt for Bud.

Seeing that their presence wasn't helping matters, Mac rose from behind her desk and moved to the door. "Commander, a second if you may?"

When she saw Harm not budge from his position, she emphasized, "Outside."

Harm followed her to the bullpen and stood outside their offices, where they could still observe the comical interaction between bumbling Lt. j.g. and his beleaguered girlfriend.

"You'd think Bud hasn't seen a woman before." Harm said increasingly horrified at his young charge's ineptitude with the fairer sex.

"Well, he really likes Harriet. Don't tell me you don't act a little loopy when you're around a girl you like?"

He glanced at her, "And what would you classify as loopy, Major?"

"Oh you know, the usual. The shy glances, the deep sighs, the foot-in-mouth syndrome."

"Foot-in-mouth syndrome?"

"You should be an expert at that, flyboy. You do it all the time."

"Are you claiming I'm loopy?"

"No, you're most definitely full-blown crazy. Loopy would be an improvement."

Harm's eyebrows shot up at her answer, and only relaxed when he caught her grin. She was feeling especially sassy today, and Harm wondered if it was because of her new hairstyle.

She'd cut it into a different style recently, changing her look after her crazed neighbor had tried to emulate her previous one. This style was shorter, sleeker, and sexi...

"What did the Admiral want you for?" she asked, breaking through his stare.

"I think I rather have KP duty." he showed her his itinerary.

"Escort duty?"

"And bodyguard duty. Apparently somebody's been taking potshots at her."

Mac frowned worriedly, "Why are they getting you to be her bodyguard?"

"Apparently the SecNav volunteered my services."

"He's probably trying to get back at you for shooting up the courtroom." Mac smirked.

Seeing her lack of sympathy, Harm pouted, "Laugh it up. I've got to watch little Miss Princess' six all week."

"You say that like you're gonna have a problem, Harm."

"I'm not a babysitter, Mac." he complained.

"Well, most men would love to be in your position, Commander."

He frowned, "Why?"

She was stunned. She glared at him, "You really have no idea what the Princess looks like, do you?"

oxoxoxo

Exiting his apartment building Harm was almost hit by a stray collection of moving boxes, stacked three high. His fighter jock reflexes deftly helped him avoid contact. "Whoa, you need help with that?" he asked the boxes.

A cute face poked out from behind the boxes. Harm had to admit, the blonde was cute. Really cute. Probably cute enough to 'wanna ask out to coffee' cute. He hadn't had a date in ages, and well... if Bud could nab a cute blonde, why couldn't he?

The blonde eyed him admiringly. He was a vision in those dress whites and somebody better call the cops about those baby blues he flashed so easily - because those should be illegal. She smiled at him.

"Oh, hey, let me give you a hand." he offered.

She pulled away, "In dress whites? I don't think so. I couldn't afford the cleaning bill." she set the boxes down so they held open the back door, before she wiped her hands on her jeans and offered one to shake his hand.

"Megan O'Hara."

"Harm Rabb."

"I know. So you're the only one crazy enough to live here."

Harm was taken aback by her forthright nature and pointed at the both of them, "Pot. Kettle. Black. You're moving in, remember?"

"Guess that makes us neighbors at the loony bin." she grinned before noticing the waiting limo. "Nice ride."

"Government issue."

"Don't tell me you're a protocol officer."

"Well, it's temporary. Most days I'm worse."

At her questioning gaze, he explained, "I'm a lawyer with the Judge Advocate General Corps." Harm played with his cover as he eyed her. "You?"

"Reporter. You're looking at the Post's newest columnist."

"Politics?"

"I wish. It's more a lifestyle thing. Best imported mustard. Best hand car wash. How to decorate on a budget, that sorta thing."

Harm was about to respond when the limo's horn beeped impatiently. He turned to find the Secret Service guys in plain suits impatiently checking their watches, "We're on a schedule here, Commander."

"Duty calls." Harm shrugged as he started toward the car. Then he looked back at her, "Hey, maybe we can catch up sometime. Over coffee or something, neighbor?"

She smiled back. "Sure thing. Neighbor."

He rewarded her with his Rabb grin and climbed into the limo.

She saw the car pull away. Once they were gone, the warm cheery smile on her face disappeared.

oxoxoxo

2245 ZULU  
ROMANIAN CONSULATE  
WASHINGTON, D.C.

"Presenting Her Royal Highness, Princess Alexandra of Romania."

Harm turned around to find the very pretty, young, stylishly dressed princess. She looked nothing at all like what he imagined.

The princess noticed his expression, "What's wrong, Commander? Do you not approve of my appearance?" she asked, putting Harm on the spot.

"No, your Highness. I'm just surprised."

"Because I'm not fat and ugly like most princesses?" Alexandra asked, tightening the screws.

Harm realized that all eyes were on him and if he wasn't careful, he'd be very unpopular very quickly. "No, I just didn't think you'd be quite so modest with your entrance."

"Are you implying I'm not usually modest?"

"No, your Highness. I'm just stating my surprise that no one here insisted on making your entrance into a complicated, lavish production." Harm verbally tap danced out of her trap.

He saw the edges of her mouth curl slightly upwards in a smile. "You're not a protocol officer are you?"

"No, your Highness."

"I can tell. You don't have your lips on my father's bum."

"Your Highness!" King Josif's Head Minister of State Affairs, the follicly-challenged Minister Vartan Kepish, admonished her, but she fixed him with a withering gaze.

"He might be king to you, but he is still just my father."

The princess approached Harm and admired him from several angles before she smiled mischievously. "I admit Commander, you're a pleasant surprise."

"And how is that, your Highness?"

"Well, usually Minister Kepish arranges for someone much older and quite unattractive to be my escort." she looked up at his handsome face. "He must think you're repulsive enough. Shall we go?"

The princess didn't bother to wait for him and he quickly caught up to her. Harm cussed internally - she might not look like anything he thought, but she still acted every bit the spoiled princess he had expected.

oxoxoxo

Dinner at Senator Franklin's home was interesting to say the least. The princess was her usual ebulliently critical self - and only her royal title made the others dismiss her rudeness as 'wry wit'.

Harm had tried to get ahead of the princess' fondness for champagne, though with no one else refusing her, it proved to be an impossible task.

Soon though, after having snidely cut down the deliberately very patient and understanding senator one last time, the princess disappeared to the powder room... where she promptly disappeared completely.

As Harm waited outside said powder room with the secret service guard assigned to them tonight, a woman handed Harm the princess' dinner dress, "She told me to give you her clothes and went out the window."

Harm looked from the dress to the secret service man. The look of panic was reflected in both their eyes, as both men saw their respective careers go up in smoke.

oxoxoxo

Princess Alexandra, or Alexi as she was known in the line of the Zoo Club was liking this crowd much better than the stuffed shirts back at the senator's house.

They were such bores, each one thinking they were better than the other while secretly sucking up to whomever was born richer or more noble - as if the simple act of fawning would bestow upon them the riches and noble birthright they so badly wished for themselves.

Of course, there was a drawback to her traveling incommunicado. The bouncer made her wait in line. Her!

"Your Highness."

She turned around to find the tall Commander Minister Kepish had arranged to be her 'date'. She had to admit, he was handsome. Dashingly so. Ruinously so too - her father would have a fit knowing she entertained the thought of seducing the American.

He truly looked like a vision out of a fairy tale, standing there resplendent in his dress whites.

"Prince Charming." she sighed sultrily before looking behind him, "Where's Frick and Frack?"

Harm looked down at the young princess. Her dress, if it could be called one, was nothing more than scraps of tin foil stitched together with dental floss, barely hiding her royal assets.

He tried not to notice just how much more noticeable said assets were in the dress she wore, keeping his eyes squarely on her face.

"You're not safe here." he said, wondering if he wasn't safe here either.

Alexi knew from a very young age that her beauty - inherited from her long deceased mother - was her one real asset. Everything else belonged to her father, so she used what her mother gave her. She turned on her charm.

"You have beautiful eyes." she said staring up into his wonderful blue-gray eyes. Poems had been written about such eyes. Possibly ballads too, she imagined. She gave him her most sensuous stare.

"We're leaving, Your Highness."

_He rebuffed her?!_ She cursed internally, obviously the good looking Commander had his fair share of beauties throwing themselves at him to be so inured to her advances. That made her mad. She was a royal princess! She was special!

"No, you are." she said petulantly and whirled away.

She felt his hand suddenly wrapped around her waist and scoop her up as if she weighed next to nothing. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, scared that he might drop her for a second, before realizing... what a wonderful opportunity this was.

She rested against him, letting him carry her to their car. She even caught the eye of the paparazzo that was there, who proceeded to earn his money.

As the photographer took his tabloid snaps, Alexi gave the watching crowd and the photographer something to whet their appetite. She leaned in to whisper in his ear, her lips touching his earlobe as if she were kissing him.

"You're about to be famous, Commander." she sighed.

Harm ignored her warm breath in his ear and continued carrying her to the car. The secret service guys didn't look pleased with him - after all they were supposed to keep a low profile - and now the Princess' pictures were going to be splashed all over the front page of the Inquirer.

Alexi whispered against his ear some more, "You know, I hate the paparazzi. Last year, one snuck into my room and photographed my panties."

Harm took a deep breath, ignored her come ons and set her down inside the car before climbing in. She whispered into his ear again, "Do you want to see which pair he was so interested in?"

Harm cursed this assignment. Not only was the princess a spoiled brat, she was a highly attractive, sexually charged one too. And someone was out to kill her. If he let anything happen to her, he wondered who would tear him limb from limb first - her father, the SecNav, Clayton Webb or the Admiral.

_Why couldn't they have chosen a jarhead for this duty instead?_

oxoxoxo

1810 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie tossed the empty Beltway Burgers soda cup in the trash on her way to her office. She hated eating alone but with her usual lunch date out of the office escorting the Romanian princess out on the town, she made a quick drive-thru run to minimize the experience.

_'I really need more friends.'_ she thought as she passed one of the Ensigns reading a tabloid on her lunch break. And stopped dead. She doubled back and held the front page up for further scrutiny.

"Oh, god." Mac glared at the offending picture.

oxoxoxo

Ensign Harriet Sims was in JAG HQ again today because of the urgent communique her CO at Norfolk required legal advice on. Her orders also made sure she was to stay there until the document was fully scrutinized by a battalion of JAG lawyers, so she waited, often in a corner where she wasn't obstructing anyone, and often alone.

While there were a whole bunch of lawyers and legalmen working at Falls Church, Harriet only knew the three officers who she met on the USS Seahawk - Lieutenant j.g Bud Roberts who was currently busy holding down the fort for Commander Rabb, who was escorting the Romanian Princess around town, and Major MacKenzie... was standing there in the bullpen with a look of complete horror on her face.

"Major MacKenzie?" Harriet wanted to ask what was wrong when she saw the front page of the tabloid.

Splashed across the cover was one Lt. Cmdr. Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr. looking absolutely stunning in his dress whites, carrying Princess Alexandra of Romania in his arms like she was Debra Winger in 'An Officer And A Gentleman'. The tabloid headline read: "A Royal Romanian Romance?"

"Son-of-a..."

It took a second for Harriet to realize that the muttered curse hadn't come from herself or the Ensign - who looked like she was about to have a fear-induced heart attack due to the angry Marine Major in front of her. The same Marine Major glaring at the paper. The same Marine Major the muttered curse had come from.

"Major?" Harriet ventured again, trying to break through her fog. "Ma'am?"

Mac felt Harriet's touch on her arm and realized she was standing in the middle of the bullpen with every junior officer staring at her. Until they realized she was staring back and their heads quickly went down, as if tomorrow's winning lottery numbers were suddenly etched on their desks.

"May I have this?" Mac asked the petrified Ensign, who could only nod yes. "Thanks." Mac grabbed the worthless rag sheet back to her office and proceeded to glare at the offending picture once more.

Braving the lion's den, Harriet knocked lightly at Mac's door.

"Ma'am? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, Harriet. I'm fine."

Harriet stepped into the office and closed the door behind her. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"

"Granted."

"You don't look fine."

Mac sighed, "You used to be the liaison officer on board the Seahawk, right Harriet?"

"Yes ma'am."

"So you're used to talking with the press and helping the Navy look good in the papers?"

"Yes, I've received training."

Mac held up the front page of the tabloid to Harriet, "Then maybe you can tell me what the hell is he doing?!"

Studying the picture once more, Harriet replied literally, "It looks like he's carrying the princess, ma'am."

"I know that. But _what_ is he doing?" she said with emphasis.

Harriet looked, unsure what she was getting so worked up about. She chose a safe answer, "It's just a tabloid, ma'am."

"Well, yes. But... but..." Mac realized she was losing her mind over a tabloid. Right, so what if he's out there carrying women he barely knew? It's his right to carry... European Royalty that way, she concluded even as her hands tightened into fists, already crushing the newspaper in her hands.

So focused on the paper, Mac didn't even realize Harriet was actually studying her intently and forming her own conclusions.

"Are you jealous, ma'am?"

"Jealous?!" Mac's head shot up and stared wide-eyed at Harriet. Before her steely Marine facade covered her surprise. "Ensign Sims, I am NOT jealous. I just don't think this is appropriate behavior."

"What's not appropriate behavior, ma'am?"

Mac showed her the picture. "This! Him!" she searched her entire vocabulary for a word, and found "Flirting!"

"Does it bother you, ma'am, that he's flirting?"

"What? No!" Mac quickly covered. "It's not him flirting. It's who he's flirting with."

Harriet looked skeptical, but quickly made sure she hid it from the Major, "In his defense, ma'am, I don't think the Commander is flirting. I just think a lot of women find him irresistible."

Mac stared at Harriet, "Women? What women?"

"Well, ma'am, you have to admit the Commander is... attractive."

Mac leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms across her chest - _she didn't have to admit to anything._ "Do you find the Commander attractive, Ensign?"

"Well ma'am, yes. He is a bit of a heartthrob. He has a fan club."

"A fan club?" Mac asked incredulously.

"On the Seahawk, ma'am." Harriet admitted as if it was common knowledge.

Mac's jaw dropped.

"But the Commander doesn't know about it, ma'am. And he's never been involved with any of us." Harriet colored slightly, "It's just on a long lonely cruise, the single girls... well... he's a bit of a fantasy, ma'am."

Mac continued staring at her, mouth agape, "Is that a confession, Harriet?"

"Oh no, ma'am." Harriet blushed even more, "But then again, I do have my eye set on another sailor."

Mac's expression softened and they shared a knowing smile. Harriet had her sights set on the hapless, but very kind and gentlemanly Lt. Roberts.

Mac stared at the tabloid and wondered why she was so mad about the picture in the first place. Harm was attractive, everybody thought so, so what? It wasn't as if she was the only one who thought he was, and thinking he was attractive was hardly a crime. And it's hardly like she was the only woman in the world who felt a little undone by his sexy Rabb smile.

She looked up at the blonde Ensign, who was currently lost in her own thought of another sailor. "Thanks Harriet." Mac said shaking Harriet out of her daydream.

"Any time ma'am." Harriet replied as she moved to exit. But she was halted when the Major called to her again.

"Harriet?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Just how many women are there in the Commander's fan club?"

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**

**AN:** I'm posting both parts today - but I wouldn't mind if you reviewed each separately. In fact I'd probably be very happy.


	22. Ep 10: Washington Holiday (Part 2)

**AN: **Here's Part 2 of 2 of this episode. Hope to hear what you think. Thanks.

* * *

**Episode 10:  
**Washington Holiday (Part 2)

0000 ZULU  
HARM'S APARTMENT  
NORTH OF UNION STATION

When he entered, Harm found that he had more phone messages than he cared to listen to, but he hit play as he started changing out of his uniform of the day. Some were from Special Assistant to the Undersecretary of State, or CIA Special Agent Clayton Webb. Most were in the same condescending and irate tone that Webb always spoke in. All were about 'the kiss'.

It wasn't Harm's fault if the Princess decided to kiss him on the lips, in full view of the guards, Minister Kepish and the secret service. And it wasn't his fault if she enjoyed it. It might have been his fault that he enjoyed it a little. _God, he really needed a date._

"You do not kiss a foreign dignitary while in your official capacity, Commander!" Webb practically said the entire sentence in all caps. He took an audible breath before covering all his bases, "And let me make it clear, it would not be in your best interest to kiss the princess while not in official capacity either!"

Harm laughed and skipped the message. Mercifully, the next message came from a voice he was glad to hear.

"Hey, Harm. It's Mac. Do you have the Sanderson case file? I can't find it anywhere."

Sanderson. Damn, he'd left it in his briefcase and hadn't been back in the office to return it.

Mac's message continued playing as he looked for the file. "We're due in court... well, I'm due in court Friday, so if you have it, let me know. I'll swing by and pick it up." He found the file, picked up the cordless phone and called her back as he walked into his bedroom. She answered on the third ring.

"Hey, Mac, it's me. I have the file. Sorry about that."

"Well, yeah you should be." she said good-humoredly.

"You coming over?"

"I did say I'd pick it up, didn't I? I guess. You're at home right?" she then asked hesitantly. "Have you had dinner?"

Harm couldn't help the flyboy grin that crept over his face, "Not yet. You buying?"

She sighed dramatically, but he heard the smile in her voice, "If I must. What do you want? And not Ho's Organic Noodles again, Harm." she warned. "We've already had it twice last week."

"What? They're good." he sensed the protest on her lips and quickly blocked it, "Okay, okay, your choice tonight. Anything as long as there's no meat on mine."

"You know a little meat won't kill you."

"And a little greens won't kill you either, Marine."

She snorted out loud as if the very thought was toxic.

"See you in twenty?" Harm asked hopefully as he pulled his undershirt off over his head and grabbed a red polo shirt to change into.

"Sure. Twenty." she replied and hung up.

Exactly twenty minutes later, there was a knock at his door. Harm had spent his time waiting by putting in the lining for the stairs. He checked his watch and as always was equal parts surprised and impressed with his partner's impeccable timing. He threw open the door.

"Hey, Mac..."

When he saw the short bob cut, he thought it was her, but he was wrong. For one, the woman in front of him was shorter. For two, her hair was the wrong color - this was a reddish brown. And for three, he recognized that face anywhere. After all, that face had been the one that planted a hot kiss on his this afternoon.

"Princess." Harm whispered, surprised and unprepared for the young girl who was the only daughter to the King of Romania. She was young, and Harm considered her a girl, but the way she filled out the tight sweater and jeans made no secret that her body was that of a fully developed woman.

"Surprised, Harm?"

"Princess, what are you doing here?" he asked as she forced her way in.

"Well, Harm. After you left, I got terribly bored, so I thought to myself, what would a young American girl do if she felt lonely?"

"Princess, it's not a good idea to be out alone this late."

"I agree, Harm. That's why I came to spend the night." She moved into his arms.

There was another knock at his door which made the Princess hold him tighter.

"Harm?" Mac's voice came through the door filling him with relief. He threw open the door.

Mac saw the petite redhead wrapped around Harm's waist and was taken aback. "Are you busy?"

Harm pulled her inside the apartment and checked to see if anyone had seen them before locking his door. "Mac, meet Princess Alexandra. Princess, Major Sarah MacKenzie."

"What are you doing here?" The princess pouted petulantly.

"The Commander invited me for dinner." Mac showed off the paper bag of something that smelled quite delicious, as well as something for Harm. "What about you, your Highness?"

"I'm spending the night."

Mac's jaw almost dropped. She looked worriedly at Harm, "Commander, I think you're taking your duties as an escort too seriously."

"She's not spending the night." Harm tried to extricate himself from the Princess's vise-like grip.

"Why? So you can spend it with her?" The princess glared at the tall, pretty brunette enviously. She admitted, she might have serious competition for the Commander's affections.

"Look, if I don't get you back, the only place I'll be spending the night is the prison cell your father will throw me in once he finds out."

"But he doesn't have to know."

Harm looked pleadingly at Mac who was beginning to enjoy this a little too much. "Mac, please."

She tried to hide her smile as she set the food down on the kitchen counter, "He won't hear it from me, Commander."

A third knock in succession graced his door. "Rabb!" The voice on the other side this time was not pleasant. It was Clayton Webb's.

Harm's look of utter panic made Mac step in to help.

She grabbed hold of the Princess and dragged her to the bathroom, leaving Harm free to answer the door just as Webb was about to knock on it once more.

Suddenly deprived of the surface, Webb tried to regain his balance and proud bearing. Harm looked down at the shorter man.

"What took you so long?" Clay asked.

"I was... in the head."

"With a hammer?"

Harm noticed he was still holding a hammer in his hand. He set it down and hoped that Webb didn't decide he needed to use the bathroom.

"What do you want, Clay?"

"She's gone. Slipped past security sometime in the last hour." Webb pushed his way past Rabb.

"The princess?"

"No, Chelsea Clinton. Of course the princess."

Meanwhile Mac was trying to keep the young princess quiet in the bathroom, though the young royal was hardly cooperating, knocking over some towels.

The noise from the bathroom drew Clay's attention. "What was that?"

Before Harm could answer, Clay decided it was worth investigating. He was almost to the bedroom when Mac stepped out of the connecting bath.

"Harm, where do you keep your towels?" she asked, freezing Clay. Clay looked back at Harm, then again at the Major. "What's going on here?"

Harm's brain froze, so it was left to Mac to furnish the fiction. "Harm invited me to dinner." She looked at Harm, "You didn't tell me you invited Webb too."

"I didn't."

"Does the Admiral know about this?"

"About what, Clay?" Mac said as she sauntered towards the men, backing them out of the bedroom. "That I'm at the Commander's house for a late dinner as we discuss our legal strategy for Corporal Sanderson?"

Clay was flustered, but still as a CIA operative was sharp enough to catch inconsistencies. "Harm answered the door with a hammer."

"Yeah, to reenact the case incident with the Major." Harm smiled, proud with the on-the-fly excuse.

"In the bathroom?"

Mac glared at Harm, but as Clay swung back to face her, her smile was already back in place, "It had the approximate square footage as the crime scene."

"Alleged crime scene." Harm added.

Clay looked at them both. "You JAG lawyers are crazy." before deciding to flee with his sanity intact. When he found a pretty blonde with a bag of coffee standing there at the open door, listening to everything.

"Who the hell are you?!" Webb shouted at the woman.

The blonde stuck out her hand in greeting, "Megan O'Hara. Washington Post."

"A reporter?" He glowered at Harm. Mac rolled her eyes - only Harm could find himself in situations like these.

"She's a lifestyle reporter. She lives downstairs." Harm explained.

"And she delivers coffee grounds too." Clay noticed the bag of coffee in her hands. "What did you hear?" Webb asked Megan.

"Princess missing. Harm working on a case with a hammer." Megan recounted off the top of her head.

"Well, forget everything you heard." Webb warned her as Harm pushed the CIA man out the door.

"So the princess is missing?" Megan asked as she entered and froze when she saw Mac standing at the top of the stairs to his bedroom. "That's not her is it?"

Mac laughed, "No, I'm Mac. Harm's colleague." she introduced herself and shook the woman's hand.

"Megan. Harm's neighbor."

"So I heard." Mac was surprised by the firm grip of the reporter's handshake. Obviously the woman was trying to establish her dominance here. Well, two could play that game.

Harm wondered what the two women in his apartment shaking hands and glaring at each other were doing. "Uh... Everything okay?"

Mac and Megan broke their contact, "Yup." Mac said plainly.

"Oh, and I just came by to return the coffee you loaned me earlier." She handed the bag to Harm to put away. While he had his back turned, Megan made sure Mac knew that she already had the grand tour of the place. "What do you think of the Commander's handiwork, Mac?"

Something about this woman rubbed Mac the wrong way. But she acted civilly anyway, "You should have seen it two months ago. The only room he could show me was his bedroom."

Mac couldn't help but feel a little thrill of victory seeing Megan's eyes widen in surprise, and how quickly she conceded defeat. "Oh, well, I won't interrupt you two any longer. Enjoy your night." Megan said as she practically fled the scene.

Harm gave Mac a questioning look, which Mac promptly ignored by returning an intense gaze of her own.

"What?" he asked, suddenly self conscious.

"No, just keeping count that in the ten minutes I've been here, I've seen two women practically throw themselves at you."

"They were not throwing themselves at me." Harm said as he quickly unpacked their dinners.

"Oh really? So random women just show up with bags of coffee at all hours of the night?"

"Look, Mac, she borrowed some coffee from me yesterday, she was returning it today. I was just being neighborly."

Mac hummed skeptically, "And the princess?"

"That's just work, Mac."

"Seems like hard work, flyboy." Mac showed him page 6 of the Times. There he was - Harm in full dress whites carrying the princess under the headline 'The Princess And The Pilot.'

Harm stared at the picture and looked back at Mac. "I explained everything to the Admiral."

When he saw she was still impassive as ever, he groaned, "How bad is it?"

"Well, there's a lot of chatter in the bullpen about where you're registered." she said, before wondering aloud, "What do you buy a princess for her engagement?"

He saw her lip twitch upwards, trying poorly not to laugh, "Mac..." he warned.

"Harm, you've got to realize what you do out there has consequences back home."

"Home! Oh crap, mom's gonna see this!" Harm held his head in horror. Mac laughed at her partner's silliness, when...

"Can I come out of the bathroom now?" called Princess Alexandra. From the bathroom. Where they'd left her.

oxoxoxo

NEXT DAY  
2320 ZULU  
WILLARD HOTEL,  
WASHINGTON, D.C.

The NATO Ball was an elegant affair, despite the sight of armed security covering every balcony, exit, room and staircase.

Harm felt out of place, having arrived early with the intention of checking security. None of the people he knew were here, except for Clayton Webb, and Harm didn't feel like acknowledging he knew the State Department man.

"Hey, sailor." came a familiar voice behind him, drawing his first smile of the day as he turned around. And was floored by what he saw.

Mac stood there in an eye-catching black gown. It fit her like a glove and he was tempted to put his hand in it. "Hi, Mac." he replied. She had her hair slicked back, creating a new look that was more alluring than her already attractive everyday look. Looking like she did, there was no doubt in Harm's mind that Mac would soon have the attention of every man in the place. He was just lucky enough to be the first.

"The princess lose interest in you, flyboy?" she teased as she took his proffered arm to escort her inside.

"The princess is with her father. Not that I can blame the King, he just found out his most trusted minister was with the hardliners seeking to overthrow him so he's ordered tighter security. Even I wasn't allowed to see his daughter before the ball."

"Disappointed?" Mac asked, as she noticed that with Harmon Rabb in full dress whites, every woman in the place was staring at them, wondering who they were, openly envying her. As much as the Marine in her hated to admit it, the woman in her could get used to this kind of attention.

Harm looked at the beautiful woman on his arm, "No." He flashed her a smile as they heard the music start. "Dance?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

As Harm led Mac across the floor, he tried not to pull her in too tight, trying to maintain a respectful distance between him and his beautiful partner. In that dress, she already had an effect on him and he did not want to share with her just how much of an effect she had. Not unless he was prepared to chance a knee to the groin.

She'd just recovered from being shot in the leg by poachers - not one of Harm's finest moments in taking a girl up in a Stearman. Actually it was by far the worst moment he'd ever had taking a girl up in his Stearman. He vowed the next time they went up, he'd make it up to her in spades.

"How's the leg?" he asked gently, trying to keep his mind and eyes on anything other than the curvy body swaying in time with his.

"Still sore. You dancing on it won't help." Mac replied in a soft voice, staring up at him.

"I'm not a bad dancer."

"Didn't say you were."

Harm tried hard to maintain the traditional waltz form, making sure as little of his body touched Mac. She was already affecting his ability to concentrate, so he needed to refocus. He scanned the balconies.

It irked Mac that Harm was busy eyeing the security in the balconies when they were so close together, "Harm, I know this is like dancing with your sister, but you could just pretend it's fun."

He looked at her in surprise, "Mac, I don't think of you as a sister."

"You don't?" she looked genuinely surprised.

"No, I don't." he smiled and felt his arousal pique again. _God, he really needed to date soon._

He needed a distraction, "But we should kick your game plan into gear soon, cause after the King and princess arrive, we both need to be alert."

Of course he said this even as he couldn't take his eyes off her body, hoping she couldn't tell by his looks that he was already imagining her naked under that dress. This was going to be a long dance.

"Security's everywhere Harm." she stated, wishing he would relax and stop moving so stiffly.

"It never hurts to have an extra pair of eyes, Mac." he said, already wishing he had an extra pair of eyes so he could sneak out of this party with Mac.

Mac sighed, Harm was all business tonight. She never told anyone this but... this was really her first major ball. She'd been to official functions before but she always attended in uniform. And there were few official functions in her previous duty stops - Bosnia was at war, Okinawa was closer to a resort destination than a center of culture and politics, Camp Lejeune and Parris Island were hardly fancy party capitals of the world and her life before Marine boot camp was no picnic either.

Of course she knew it was a little too much to expect the handsomest guy at the party to pay her attention - even if he was her closest friend. It would be nice if he paid her a compliment though - he hadn't said a word about how she looked tonight.

She realized that it was most likely because he didn't see her that way - beautiful she meant. She was sure he had his eye on some pretty young thing and he was merely doing her the favor of dancing with her.

She sighed again and looked around the ballroom. And saw Harriet with Lt. Knox; while Bud was with Ensign Nestor from JAG.

'Romance was sure batting a big fat zero tonight.' Mac thought sadly.

The dance ended, and Mac felt Harm's hand press against the small of her back, gently leading her. She felt her skin get warm instantly. She thought she was over that effect, where his lightest touch could make her body heat up.

Obviously she wasn't completely inured to his touch just yet. Damn him.

She needed a distraction and found it when she caught sight of how miserable Harriet and Bud looked. She wasn't big on matchmaking - it wasn't exactly a skill she honed, but anyone could see that Harriet and Bud were meant to be together. And she couldn't believe how silly they were behaving by denying what was so obvious to everyone else.

She leaned in to Harm and whispered her plan to help correct cupid's misguided arrows.

oxoxoxo

Mac stared as Harriet and Bud stood next to each other, her arm linked around his, and equally wide happy grins on both their faces. She smiled at a proud mission accomplished, before staring straight ahead at the stage.

There was a podium set up there for King Josif to make his announcement. Through the crowd around her Mac saw the over gelled head of Clayton Webb. He actually looked almost hopeful and happy to be there.

His expression brightened even more at seeing the King and his daughter step out to the podium. Mac looked up and had to admit that the Princess looked especially elegant tonight - completely different from the girl who had clung to Harm.

Harm. Mac tried not to think of him, but there he was - larger than life and undeniably dapper in his dress whites. She tried to keep her eyes from staring at him, but she noticed that he seemed tense, subtly scanning the ballroom around him.

No doubt he was looking for whatever blonde hussy had drawn his attention - _what was his neighbor's name again, Megan?_ Mac couldn't help but feel a flash of jealousy, irrational as it was.

After the pleasantries, the king spoke plainly, "It has taken fifty years for Romania to move out from under the shadow of domination into the sunlight of free nations."

A hush descended the room. This was it - the build to the big finish, where the King would announce his alliance with NATO. Mac swore she could almost see Webb float in anticipated euphoria.

The king continued, "To accomplish this, we welcome the the help of freedom-loving nations everywhere. Thank you."

And the king stepped back. Confusion gripped the room._ Where was the alliance? Where was the NATO base? What was going on?_

Mac saw that Harm was equally perplexed, but also saw the Princess look to him for a shot of confidence. She must have found what she was looking for in his gaze because she stepped forward next to address the crowd.

"You'll have to forgive me if I'm nervous, but I'm still new at speaking in public. It is a skill that I intend to master, starting now. I have the honor of announcing that tomorrow the king will petition for Romanian membership into NATO."

Harm felt something was wrong, and scanned the balconies once more. He noticed each one was manned by a guard. Except one. Then he saw the unmistakable glint of a rifle sticking out from behind the curtain.

"Gun!" he shouted out the warning and the king's bodyguards were instantly on the monarch and his heir.

A single gunshot nailed one of the bodyguards as he shielded the princess. Harm raced to the balcony where the shot had come from. He effortlessly climbed up and tackled the shooter.

And was stunned when he saw who it was - his neighbor Megan. He almost paid for his hesitation but before she could train her gun on him, a shot nailed her in the back. She fell forward as blood started seeping through her disguise as a hotel maid. He saw the life drain out of her eyes.

He dropped her body and stood back. He saw that in the commotion in the ballroom below, Clayton Webb was busy glaring angrily at the Secret Service men who failed to secure the room. He saw the king and the princess being led to safety. And he saw Mac, who had shielded Senator Franklin and his wife during the initial attack, look up at him with concern.

He stared down at himself. His dress whites were now ruined, soaked in the assassin's blood. He locked eyes with Mac and with a nod, conveyed that he was okay.

oxoxoxo

NEXT DAY  
1548 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

It was front page news - yet another assassination attempt against Princess Alexandra of Romania. Yet another female assassin used. And this time, the end to the threat as members of the State Department and US Navy successfully uncovered the main orchestrator of the assassination plot - Minister Kepish.

What wasn't front page news was the small yet official commendation King Josif of Romania bestowed on a certain member of the JAG Corps - Lt. Cmdr. Harmon Rabb for being alert to the latest and final attempt against his daughter's life. His reward was the War Medal Of Military Virtue and a kiss on each cheek from the monarch himself.

The rest of the JAG Corps was not forgotten in the ensuing ceremony, with Admiral A.J. Chegwidden, Major Sarah MacKenzie and Lt. j.g. Bud Roberts all being recognized for their courage under fire by the Romanian King. While there were no medals, they had the kingdom's eternal gratitude and friendship - one that even extended to an invitation to visit the European nation in the summer, perhaps at the King's coronation.

After the ceremony, Mac spoke with Bud about his exciting night with Harriet, only to be interrupted by the Princess who wanted to speak to her country's newest minted hero.

Mac pointed her in his direction - the balcony where Harm was enjoying one of his celebratory cigars and after the princess went in search of him, Mac also found herself impossibly drawn to that section of JAG Headquarters.

After a brief exchange between the princess and the Commander, Mac saw the extremely pleased Princess exiting the balcony.

"Did you find the commander, your Highness?" Mac asked.

"Oh, yes." the princess replied with a skip in her step that made Mac more than a little suspicious. She entered to see Harm still enjoying Havana's finest.

"Well, flyboy. How does it feel to be the hero once again?"

"I'm not a hero, Mac."

"Oh, don't be so modest, Commander. You just received another shiny medal, you got one the day we met, heck, I'm surprised you didn't get one for catching those poachers."

Memories of last month's adventure had Harm turning to her in concern. "Is your leg okay, Mac?"

"I'll live."

At his continued look of concern, she smiled to let him know it was all okay, "I'm fine, Harm. Continually asking about it won't make it heal any faster."

"It's just I haven't seen you out on the running trails of late."

"Are you making fun on my weight, squid?"

"Not unless you're sneaking in Beltway Burgers with my cooking."

She hit his shoulder playfully, prompting an easy laugh from her partner. They stood there in companionable silence before Mac sighed, "Well, Bud and Harriet had a great time last night."

"Taking pride in a successful mission?"

"My missions are always successful, flyboy. It's not my fault if you can't keep up your end of the bargain."

"My end?" he looked at her with mock hurt, "Mac, I'm not about to play matchmaker to two naval officers."

"That's because you're not a romantic."

"And the Marines are?"

"More than the Navy it seems."

Harm looked at his partner, "Okay, I'll bite. So what are we playing for here? Which of us will get them together faster?"

"Romance isn't a race, Harm." Mac smiled as she looked up at her handsome partner. "And besides, you've already lost. I've gotten them together."

"They've only had one date."

"When I asked Bud how his date ended, he gave me the red light..."

"What?" Harm almost dropped his cigar. He looked at the door to the rest of the party, "Bud? And Harriet? Already?"

"Red light, Commander." Mac tried not to laugh at Harm's disbelief.

"Well, knowing Bud, he'd probably give you a red light just for asking how he liked his hot dogs."

Mac had to admit Harm was probably right. There just was no way Bud would have gotten that far with Harriet. Even if Harriet had lain down naked in his bed, Bud would have just asked her if she wanted an extra blanket so she wouldn't catch a cold.

_Were men really that clueless?_ Mac looked up at Harm. Not that she was wondering about Harm, he just happened to be there in her line of view.

Harm probably had very strong feelings for someone out there. She could feel it, had seen it in his eyes when he looked at her sometimes. Especially when he looked at her with such sadness, like the last time when they were out on the Seahawk.

Memories of her conversation with Harriet about Harm's Seahawk fan club resurfaced. She wondered who had won his heart. And who had broken it so completely.

She returned to the present when she heard him speak, "Webb added me as legal liaison to the NATO negotiations with Romania."

"That's a huge boost to your career, Harm. Congratulations." she said.

"Yeah, though I don't think it's my career the princess has an eye of boosting."

Mac's eyes narrowed, "I'm sure you can fend off any girl who throws herself at you... that is if you wanted to."

"Jealous, Major?" he smirked.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Marines don't get jealous."

"For what it's worth, I'm sure Clay would much rather have you be the legal liaison."

She looked up at him, touched that he thought so highly of her skills, until he added, "You'd probably scare them into giving us a NATO base."

She wanted to smack him again, but decided against it, "Oh, I don't know. I wouldn't want to get between your special friendship with Webb."

Harm was amused by her sass, "You're just trying to saddle me with him so he'll be out of your hair."

"Please, I have more effective ways to get rid of Webb."

"Care to share?"

"Not without dinner involved."

Harm shook his head at her, "Always thinking with your stomach."

She couldn't believe he said that! "Just for that, I'll keep my secret to myself." she said and turned to leave.

"Twenty hundred tonight?"

"You buying?" she asked.

"If I buy, I get to choose." he smiled.

"As long as it's not Ho's Organic Noodles." when she realized that was his plan, she glared harder, "Harm..."

"Fine." he sighed resignedly. "In that case, come over earlier."

"Wait, wouldn't the cops still be tearing your downstairs neighbor's place apart?"

Harm remembered - Megan O'Hara, the cute blonde who lived downstairs from him, the cute blonde he even considered dating at one point was actually an assassin hired to kill the princess! The police were investigating everything she touched. _Oh god, he had to throw away that bag of coffee she gave him._

"Right. So your place instead?" he offered.

Mac then recalled what one of her own neighbors - Donna - had tried to do. "God, I have even worse neighbors. At least yours didn't try to kill you for no reason."

"Think we both need to find a new place to live?" he asked.

"Something tells me, trouble is gonna find us wherever we go." Mac shrugged sadly.

"How about we grab a bite after work instead?"

"Sounds like a plan." she smiled, "But not..."

"... Ho's Organic Noodles, I got it." he jumped in with a wide grin that Mac returned.

* * *

**Next Episode:** Force Recon (2x11)

**AN: **In my Retold Universe - 'Force Recon' comes before 'The Game Of Go'.


	23. Ep 11: Force Recon

**AN:** Hey, thanks to everyone who keeps reading this. It's always nice to know that I'm not the only one enjoying this story. :)

In the Retold universe, Force Recon (2x11) comes before The Game Of Go (2x10). Now, Force Recon is actually one cool episode so I would keep most of what they showed. As a result, this 'episode' is comprised mostly of added scenes.

**Special Note:  
**Special thanks to ArmyDT42 for your ability to make me talk things out and stop climbing walls and keep writing. And thanks to everyone else who has provided feedback so far, for sharing with me what you think and for generally brightening up my day.

Today (16th June) is actually my birthday. I rushed out this episode because I wanted to commemorate it (and share it with you guys).

**Note:** I changed Koonan's rank from Captain (which is one rank below Major in the Marines) and raised it to Lt. Col.

* * *

**Episode 11:  
**Force Recon (02x11)

1441 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Lt. Cmdr. Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr. looked on as his attractive JAG partner Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie stepped into the elevator. As she waited for the doors to close behind her, he called out teasingly, "You miss me already, don't you?"

She shot him an annoyed look but before she could respond, the young Lieutenant j.g. beside her on the elevator - Bud Roberts responded, "Yes, sir."

And with that the elevator doors closed.

Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie rolled her eyes skywards. She couldn't believe the ego of her partner at JAG. Of course, she shouldn't have been surprised, after all Harm was a former aviator, and they didn't hand out those gold wings on his chest for modesty. Additionally, his status as resident legal hotshot of the Judge Advocate General Corps did little to deflate his ego any.

That he looked like a zillion dollars with his Adonis good looks, muscular build and megawatt smile only served to make him cockier. Sometimes he made it so tempting for her to wanna wipe that smirk off his face.

_'Miss me already?'_ Seriously? As if she would miss the likes of him.

Okay, granted they hadn't been spending much time apart of late. Granted they had more than their fair share of after work dinners, regardless of whether they were working a case together or not. Granted, and Mac's face heated up slightly at the thought, they had shared her bed. It was just that one time after she'd been attacked by one of her crazed neighbors, and nothing had happened between them. Not that she was looking for something to happen anyway.

Luckily Bud had effectively diffused the tension between them with that one response.

Mac and Bud were on their way to Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton in California to investigate if Lieutenant Colonel John 'The Duke' Koonan was deliberately endangering the Force Recon recruits in his charge during training exercises. While Mac had never served with or trained under the man, his legend preceded him.

He had redesigned part of the recon training program, and had consulted on many of the other aspects as well. His training program, even by Marine standards was considered tough, but so effective it had come to the attention of other elite forces, and everyone from the Navy SEALS to USSOCOM to Delta Force had taken notes and were integrating some of Koonan's methods into their own training.

Of course that was before some of his recruits had been injured in a live-fire exercise. And now Mac was racing across the country to investigate what exactly happened.

While Mac was lost in her thoughts, Bud Roberts had other thoughts preoccupying his mind.

"Ma'am, may I ask you a personal question?"

She turned to the junior officer, "Depends on how personal it is, Bud."

All at once, he looked embarrassed and his gaze dropped to his shoes, "I don't mean personal as in personal to you ma'am. I meant it more of a personal as in not professional..."

Mac rolled her eyes at his babbling, "What is it, Bud?"

"Ma'am, if you dated, where would you go on a second date?"

"If I dated?" Mac asked pointedly.

Bud realized his words, "I don't mean to say that you don't ma'am. I mean you don't seem to go out much socially. Well, not since you got to JAG anyway, ma'am. Not to say that you couldn't if you didn't want to. I just..."

"At ease, Lieutenant, and breathe. What was the question again?"

"If you went out, ma'am, what would be a suitable second date?"

Mac sighed, "Well according to you, I don't even get a lot of first dates, much less second ones."

"I'm sure it'll change, ma'am, you are very attractive." Bud realized that what he said might be highly inappropriate and backtracked, "I mean not that I noticed, ma'am."

Mac looked at the young officer, all the while trying to hide her amusement at Bud's bemusement, "Bud, do all sailors get this tongue-tied around women or am I the exception?"

"No ma'am. I don't know ma'am. Forget it ma'am."

They stepped out of the elevator and moved towards the car taking them to Andrews Air Force Base where their plane was scheduled to leave. Once settled inside the car, Mac glanced over at Bud.

"Bud, for a second date, take Harriet someplace fun, but a place that doesn't make any overtly romantic suggestions."

Bud's eyebrows knotted together, "Like what ma'am?"

"The movies. Or the batting cages. I'm sure you'll think of something, Bud."

"Movies and batting cages." Bud looked at her skeptically. "That's exactly what Commander Rabb said."

Mac was surprised, "You asked Harm? And you still asked me?"

"Well, truth be told ma'am, I didn't know if Commander Rabb's suggestions were going to work. You know, for someone like me. I don't look like the Commander." Bud said sadly.

"Well, thank God for that." Mac said with a laugh.

Bud however didn't find the humor in it, "But that's just it ma'am. The Commander's so good looking I'm sure all he needs to get a woman to go out with him is smile. He doesn't even have to try to get a date. That's why I asked you, ma'am."

Mac cocked an eyebrow, "Because I have to try to get a date?"

"No ma'am. That's not what I meant. I mean..."

"At ease Bud." Mac sighed, "I'm sure Harriet will love whatever you have planned."

"I sure hope so, ma'am."

Mac rolled her eyes. Bud's questions only served to remind her that she hadn't been on a date in a very long time. Maybe it was time she stopped holing herself up at work and at home. And having dinner with only a certain sailor. Sure he was attractive, but he was still hung up on somebody else and she wasn't sure if she wanted to get involved with someone like him.

Great, now her own loneliness was going to preoccupy her. Mac sighed. Only another six and a half hours until they got to California and she could be distracted by the investigation.

oxoxoxo

TWO DAYS LATER  
1600 ZULU  
CAMP PENDLETON, CALIFORNIA

The office of the base commander - Colonel Malcolm, was located in section of the main building overlooking the main parade grounds. Mac and Bud were rapidly making their way to the Colonel's office. The Colonel's administrative assistant - the slender raven-haired Second Lieutenant Willa Odgers stood at attention and ushered them in, "The Colonel said to knock before entering, ma'am."

"Thank you Lieutenant." Mac replied as she knocked on the door first to announce her arrival.

"Enter."

Mac opened the door and stepped in. The Colonel was there with a tall muscular Gunnery Sergeant. Malcolm made the introductions from behind his desk.

"Major Mackenzie, Lieutenant Roberts. This is Sergeant Krycek's replacement. Gunnery Sergeant Post."

Mac and Bud were shocked when the Gunny turned around to reveal the familiar face of Harmon Rabb Jr. Mac was quick to recover though, quickly masking her shock.

"It's good to see you again, Gunny Post."

"Yes ma'am." Harm replied, keeping his panic in check.

"You two served together?" Colonel Malcolm asked.

"Yes sir. Bosnia. Two Nine, right, Gunny?" she asked sweetly.

Harm glared at Mac. "Two Nine, ma'am."

Malcolm nodded, "It's a good outfit. Let's see, the CO was..." he paused, waiting for Harm to fill in the blank. Harm kept his eye on Mac.

After making Harm sweat a little, she smiled. "Colonel Walls, sir."

"Walls, of course. Who could forget Gonzo Walls?" Malcolm nodded. "Well, you two probably have some catching up to do."

"Yes sir, we certainly do." Mac said and as one they moved towards the exit.

oxoxoxo

0330 ZULU  
RITA'S DINER  
OCEANSIDE, CALIFORNIA

Later that night, Harm, Mac and Bud met to discuss a plan of action. They chose to meet off base - someplace where it wouldn't seem strange the three of them would be at.

Rita's diner was a nice, quiet and secret little haunt. It wasn't that far from the base, and it wasn't that far from the ocean - but it was far enough away from either one to actually be free of tourists and not run into anyone too familiar in either case.

While waiting for their dinner to arrive, Bud had taken to walking the path outside in the hopes he'd get a clearer signal on his cellphone as he called his new girlfriend, Ensign Harriet Sims in Norfolk. This left Harm and Mac alone in their booth.

They had taken to sitting near the back of the restaurant, mostly that way they could discuss their investigation without worrying too much about being overheard.

Mac eyed Harm. He, like her and Bud, hadn't changed out of his uniform either so he sat there in the Marine khakis of a Gunnery Sergeant. It took Mac a second extra to drag her focus away from his muscular pecs - something she knew existed everyday underneath his Navy uniform but something the Marine uniform seemed to accentuate.

She found him watching her with a raised eyebrow. She kept her face neutral.

"Something wrong with my uniform?" he asked, knowing full well there was nothing out of place.

"Just noticing that we have near similar ribbons, Gunny." she covered smoothly.

He tried not to laugh at her pulling rank, "Yeah, real lucky or that line about us serving in Bosnia together would have sunk me. That was a risky move, Mac."

"I didn't ask for your participation on this mission, Harm. Or whatever the hell your first name is supposed to be."

"Greg."

"Yeah, well _Greg_, why did the Admiral really send you? Is he worried I won't be impartial just because I'm investigating a Marine?

"Mac, you know he trusts you." Harm said with a frown.

"But not enough to get to the bottom of this alone."

"You're not alone. You've got Bud. And you've got me."

"But I don't really have you, do I, Harm?"

Just then two couples on a double date of sorts entered the diner. Mac and Harm though were too busy to notice their arrival.

Unfortunately for them, ignorance to their presence wasn't mutual. One of the women in the group did notice and recognize them.

Willa Odgers, Col. Malcolm's admin assistant, was bored out of her mind with her 'blind date', set up by her roommate with her boyfriend's friend. '_Why was it that people in relationships thought everyone else needed to be in a relationship too?' _Willa thought darkly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the pretty Marine Major from JAG and the handsome new Gunnery Sergeant she had been introduced to earlier today. They were seated together at the back booth.

She had heard the news they had served together in Bosnia, but that didn't seem quite all there was. There was something off at their body language, for one. There was an extreme ease between the both of them that bordered on the overly familiar.

Meanwhile Harm looked confusedly at his partner. "What do you mean by 'not having me'? I have your back, you know that." he said quietly.

Mac sighed, "But if I needed you, I can't exactly just summon you without people getting suspicious can I?"

Harm shot her a cocky grin, "Ah, so you need me now, do you?"

She glared at him and smacked his arm lightly. "Wow, ego much?"

"Look Mac, I didn't ask for this assignment. You think I liked getting my six handed to me by a Sergeant Major?" Harm recalled his training under Sergeant Major Sauer - the tough crusty old Marine who had quickly introduced Harm to the painful ways of the Force Recon Marines.

The visual he painted made Mac chuckle, much to Harm's annoyance.

"That's right, laugh it up Major. I'd like to see how you handle Force Recon training."

Mac raised an eyebrow at him, "You know I could kick your six right now right?"

"Oh, wanna take this outside?" he grinned.

"Oh, I'm tempted. Trust me, my leg is itching to kick some serious squi..."

Just then their food arrived, prompting them to call a temporary cease fire.

Observing them, 2nd Lt. Odgers finally realized what she found so strange about the Major and the Gunnery Sergeant. When they spoke, they looked at each other's faces - sometimes making strong eye contact. Willa had experienced very few relationships, much less working ones, where she could maintain eye contact with the person she was talking with so completely.

The woman next to Willa, her roommate and a fellow Marine, also noticed the connection between the two good looking Marines seated in the booth. They nodded at each other knowingly and shared what they observed with each other. Soon it became shared gossip with their two dates as well.

This might have been fine if it remained between the four of them. But no one swore them to secrecy.

oxoxoxo

Harm came to attention before Col. Malcolm. He had been summoned first thing in the morning, before the Force Recon recruits final trial at the obstacle course today.

Malcolm looked at the tall Gunnery Sergeant.

"Gunny Post, is there something you would like to share with me regarding your relationship with the JAG team from Falls Church?"

Harm's pose stiffened noticeably. _'Had someone overheard their conversation? Was his cover blown?'_

The Colonel caught Harm's reaction. "I know I gave you permission to catch up with the Major, but I hope you remember that you're skirting dangerously close to fraternization, Gunny."

"Fraternization, sir?" Harm asked questioningly, his mind now in a tailspin as he had no idea what the Colonel was going on about.

"Now normally I wouldn't pay any mind to the scuttlebutt around here, but considering the possible legal fallout and how unfounded scuttlebutt may ruin a promising career without reason, I am going to ask you straight out. Gunny, do you have a prior relationship with Major MacKenzie?"

Harm had no idea how to respond to that loaded question. _What constituted a prior relationship?_

"Well?" Malcolm waited for an explanation, his impatience showing.

Harm needed to distance himself from Mac completely for the good of the investigation. If Koonan and his men caught wind of his friendship with her, he might as well kiss the point to his being undercover goodbye.

"Sir, there is nothing going on between me and the Major. We were merely catching up last night and I admit perhaps the time got away from me. I will not let it happen again, sir."

"See that you don't." the Colonel circled Harm and returned to his desk. "She's here on official JAG business and the last thing I need is for my new Gunnery Sergeant to be hauled up on charges of impropriety."

"Yes sir."

"What were you thinking, Guns?" the Colonel wanted an explanation.

"Sir, I... I admit it was careless on my part sir. I will try to be more careful."

"So you still plan on seeing the Major socially?"

"No sir." Harm said fervently.

Malcolm was surprised by the man's strong reaction, "No? Just like that?"

"I will do so on your orders, sir."

"Do you want me to order it, Guns?"

Harm was quiet. Malcolm nodded as if coming to an understanding.

"How long you been in love with her, Gunny?"

_'What?' _Harm's face must have betrayed his complete shock at the question, because the Colonel's stern gaze softened immediately.

"Gunny, what exactly happened between you two in Bosnia?"

"Nothing, sir." Harm said truthfully.

"Is that the problem?"

"Sir?"

"Look, I don't care about what happened... or didn't happen in the past. I just want you to be aware that as long as you serve here at Pendleton, you will obey my rules. And my rules are, you are to limit your involvement with the Major until she concludes her business here. Understood?"

Harm's face hardened, _how was he gonna help Mac now?_ "Yes sir."

"Good. Dismissed."

Harm snapped to and spun round to walk out the door. He was almost at the door when Malcolm spoke once more.

"And Gunny, if you and the Major ever decide to change the nature of your relationship, let me know and we'll see what we can do."

Harm turned back around, "Sir?"

Malcolm showed the wedding band on his left hand and smiled, "The Corps does know a thing or two about turning out incredible women, Guns."

Harm was temporarily rendered speechless. He had no idea what the Colonel was going on about, but his cover hadn't been blown. Relief washed over him. "Yes sir. Thank you sir." Harm said as he exited.

Once outside, he sighed in relief, something not lost on 2nd Lt. Odgers.

"Everything alright Gunny?" she asked.

Harm shone her part of his flyboy grin, "Never better, Second Lieutenant." and he marched away.

Willa admired the view of him walking away. She really couldn't blame the Major from JAG risking her career fraternizing with the Gunny, because in her opinion, he was definitely worth breaking the rules for.

oxoxoxo

Mac and Bud drove quickly back to the base. They were coming from visiting the now conscious Corporal Bell - the Marine injured in the training exercise they were investigating - and he had just made an explosive accusation.

He had clearly seen Lt. Col. Koonan deliberately alter the training map, placing the men outside the safety area. If this was true, then Koonan needed to be stopped.

However, they had been unable to get anything from Krycek to confirm that Lt. Col. Koonan had done anything wrong. Instead he placed the blame squarely on Bell's cowardice under fire, resulting in the both of them getting severely injured.

"What now, ma'am?" Bud asked, "If Corporal Bell's accusations are true, then we need to report it to Colonel Malcolm."

"If his accusations are true. What if they aren't?"

"Ma'am?"

"One eyewitness account is still hearsay, Bud. Until we can get more solid evidence we can't risk destroying one man's career on the word of a man who might hold enough of a grudge to lie about what really happened."

"Where should we look for the evidence ma'am?" Bud asked, because he was drawing a blank.

Mac hated to admit it but so was she.

oxoxoxo

Lt. Col. Koonan was impressed with Gunnery Sergeant Post's handling of the recruits on today's obstacle course. He was every bit the Gunny BUPERS had promised, and that pleased him. The Gunny wasn't one of those hand holding Kumbaya types, who thought that feelings were the key to winning wars and keeping men alive in the battlefield.

Koonan had chosen to ignore the scuttlebutt swirling around the Gunny regarding his relationship with the female JAG investigator. He had no interest in the man's private life and Koonan had no intention of revealing his own personal life to the Gunny to share with the JAGs anyway.

Harm and the men had decided to unwind in the mess hall, and a bunch of Army Rangers had perhaps a little too much to drink or a little too much stick up their butts - but either way, insults had been flung between the two tables.

Just seconds before Harm's fist flung across the air to catch one of the Rangers straight on. The brawl lasted for only a couple of minutes before the MPs arrived.

As Harm and the other Marines sat in the brig, they had an almighty laugh at the Rangers expense, each one impressed by the others in their unit in how they handled themselves.

"So what do you think about Colonel Koonan?" Harm asked.

"I think he's a hell of an officer." one of the men, Sergeant Tesla responded.

"You think he's too hard on the men?" Harm prodded.

Tesla looked at him. "Do you?"

"You'll have to tell me, Sergeant. I'm the new guy here."

Tesla looked away before back again, "You've been in combat, right, Gunny?"

"Yep."

"In war, things don't always go as planned." Tesla said.

"More often than not." Harm admitted.

"So stuff like bad intel, faulty equipment, even wrong coordinates can wind up in our hands, right?"

Harm's blood chilled. "It's not supposed to."

"But it does."

Harm nodded.

Tesla sighed, "Colonel Koonan interjects problems into the mission. That way we learn to solve it right there and then."

"It's for our own good." another one of the men, Corporal Sibley agreed. "He wants to give us the confidence to know we can get the job done."

"And survive." Tesla added.

"Hoorah!" the Recon Marines chanted as if on cue.

Harm nodded sadly. He had grown fond of Koonan, as an officer and as a trainer. His methods were harsh, but he had seen nothing that crossed the line. He treated the men fairly and with far more respect than most COs and trainers did their own units.

Most of all, he saw that the Colonel's methods worked, creating incredibly able units that had been strengthened in the fires of adversity. That was why his units came back home instead of not at all.

"That's the word on Koonan. His men come back alive." Harm said sadly.

Tesla read the reason for Harm's sadness wrong. He grinned as he broached the subject of the scuttlebutt revolving around the older man. "Of course it is easier if there's someone to come home to, right sir?"

Harm looked at Tesla confused. "What?"

Tesla prompted, "The female JAG officer..."

Harm's ears perked up. "What about the Major?"

"Nothing, just scuttlebutt has it you two are... close."

Harm saw the widening grins on all four faces of his cellmates, "Your point being?" Harm asked.

"Well, just wondering if you're close as friends or more..."

"We used to serve together."

"Is that all you were together?" Sibley asked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harm asked. He wanted to pull rank but that might alienate the men and make them tightlipped once more. And he knew that was not going to get him the evidence he needed. He had stories, but if he was going to end the career of a legend like Koonan, he wanted proof to wrongdoing, not hearsay.

And to gather that evidence, he needed to keep them sweet, at least for the moment.

Sibley grinned at Harm, "Well sir it's not as if we don't understand if you were hot for her..."

"With all due respect, Gunny, we can't blame you if you were." Tesla added.

Harm glared at all of them, "I'm beginning to think I decked the wrong guys in mess hall." reducing all four to laughter.

oxoxoxo

Koonan had gotten Harm and the Recon Marines out of jail in time for the live-fire exercise.

Harm had talked with Mac as well about their findings. She had to give a preliminary report to Colonel Malcolm and Harm had echoed her own sentiments that they needed more proof.

And once again, they had disagreed about what to do.

Mac glared at him, "Harm, if creating problems puts his men at risk, then he's a bad officer."

"It's that simple?" Harm glared back. "How do we train men for war, Mac?"

"You can't have a war if your Marines are dead before the damn thing starts." she hissed.

"And you can't ruin a man's career without proof." Harm shot back.

Aware that they might be causing a scene if they were caught, Mac quickly walked off. She was livid on two counts.

First, Harm was right. She couldn't in good faith ruin Koonan's career on just speculation.

And second, she knew that her partner was going to deliberately put himself in danger chasing down the truth - even if it got him blown to kingdom come in the process.

So she could either compromise on her investigation to stop Harm from facing danger, or let Harm face potential death to find the truth. She knew what her partner would do. But what should she do?

F-bombs went off in her head tied in to that selfish Navy sonuvabitch, as she entered Colonel Malcolm's office.

He better come back alive!

oxoxoxo

Mac stood there at the artillery tent with Bud beside her watching as Colonel Malcolm and the artillery team bombard the training site with live-fire.

She had breathed a sigh of relief when the Force Recon team had radioed in earlier that they were well clear of the zone. While she could say that her concern for her partner's safety was part of the relief she felt, it was more because her career was safe once more.

Colonel Malcolm had earlier threatened to take her oak leaves if anything happened to the team during Koonan's exercise.

But her relief was short lived as Lt. Col. Koonan marched in shouting, "Colonel, cease fire. My men haven't cleared the village."

The artillery captain relayed the order to "Cease fire!" and the guns eventually fell silent.

Koonan confessed to sabotaging his team's equipment, placing his men in danger, like he had smudged up the map and gotten Krycek and Corporal Bell injured.

As he was also admitted that this wasn't the only times he had done it, all Mac heard was the death of her career. Malcolm had warned her. Malcolm would take her leaves. But she kept a stoic facade up.

Somewhere through all her sadness, frustration and confusion, a tiny voice piped up. '_Was Harm safe?'_

It wasn't until 13 long minutes later she finally got her answer. Yes.

oxoxoxo

Mac and Bud were standing before Colonel Malcolm in front of his desk. The Colonel for some reason was looking mightily pleased.

"Outstanding. This kind of publicity will go a long way towards letting people know what Recon's all about." he put down the papers and turned to the two JAG officers.

"Excellent job, Major, Lieutenant."

Mac couldn't believe what was happening. She had resigned herself to being stripped of her rank, or at the very least facing an Article 32. And now he was praising them? "Sir, I don't know if we deserve any praise..." she stated.

"Nonsense. You helped to expose a training method that was putting my men's lives at risk. An official letter of reprimand will become part of Colonel Koonan's permanent record and he will be leaving the Corps."

Malcolm looked out his window. "John Wayne is dead." he stated with finality.

oxoxoxo

Harm waited outside Colonel Malcolm's office. He had been saddened by the nature of Koonan's dismissal from the Corps, but there was no choice. Koonan had endangered his men and no matter how noble his intention, it didn't excuse his methods.

The fallout from this might take months, maybe years to completely unfold as training programs for all the elite special forces would be scrutinized. And every time a recruit became hurt, a real possibility under the extreme circumstances the recruits would be placed under, there would be mention of Koonan's name.

A hero vilified, his legacy tarnished. Harm sighed. Sometimes the truth was not pretty.

Now he stood waiting as Mac and Bud finished with the base commander of Camp Pendleton. Colonel Malcolm's administrative assistant - Willa Odgers eyed him.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Harm asked when he noticed her attention.

"You're not really a Gunnery Sergeant?"

Harm smiled, "No."

"So you're not enlisted? You're an officer."

Harm's grin grew wider at the pretty 2nd Lieutenant. "Yes. With JAG."

Willa smiled back flirtatiously, "Will you be heading back to D.C. immediately, sir?"

He didn't miss the come hither quality in her voice, but before he could respond, the door opened and both Bud and Mac exited.

"Sir." Bud said.

"Bud." Harm replied before looking at his partner, "Hey."

"Hey." she said back.

"All good?"

"Somehow. You okay?"

He smiled. "Yup."

Her lips peeled back into not so friendly grin of her own, "Yeah, flyboy. Put me through that again and you won't be."

His smile dimmed. "Duly noted."

Harm entered the Colonel's office and stood at attention.

"At ease, Gunny." Malcolm then corrected himself when he noticed Harm's uniform. "I mean Commander."

"I'm sorry for the deception, sir." Harm apologized sincerely.

"Does Gunnery Sergeant Gregory Post even exist?"

"No sir. Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb Jr. sir. JAG Corps."

"So you're Major MacKenzie's colleague. Guess that explains why you two were so close."

"We were discussing the case sir. I'm sorry for any misunderstanding it might have caused sir."

Malcolm sighed, "I suppose the only egg on my face is what I offered to do for you if you ever sought out a relationship with the Major. I can see that won't be necessary."

"Sir, the Major and I are strictly platonic." Harm reaffirmed.

Malcolm looked at him funnily, "I didn't say you weren't. I just meant since you're not in my chain-of-command I don't need to make any recommendations regarding your careers."

"Ah, yes sir." Harm answered.

Malcolm smirked, "It's a shame though, you made a very convincing Marine, Commander. Any chance for a change in careers?"

Harm grinned widely, "Not for the time being sir."

oxoxoxo

1935 ZULU  
CAMP PENDLETON AIR STATION  
CALIFORNIA

Lt. j.g. Bud Roberts roamed the hangar for a cellphone signal, hoping against hope that his lack of attention to the new girl in his life wouldn't result in him returning to his old friend - singlesville.

"Hello? JAG ops? Harriet Sims please? I mean Ensign Harriet Sims. Harriet? It's me, Bud. Bud Roberts. B-U-D, R-O... Yes! Hi Harriet. Can you hear me now?"

Standing a long way away, Lt. Commander Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr. barely observed the young Lieutenant's search for a better connection. It seemed like Bud was replicating a tribal dance - an effect that might have been hypnotic and would have been if Harm's eyes weren't glazed over, his mind a little preoccupied at the moment.

Harm's JAG partner noticed his countenance and the faraway look in his eyes. Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie studied him and the fact that she could do so for more than 3 minutes and 22 seconds without him noticing told her all she needed to know of his mood, though it revealed nothing of the reason for it. Perhaps speech would provide more clues.

"What's wrong squid? Miss the Marines?" she asked lightheartedly.

Her pleasant voice cut through the fog of his reverie and brought him back to the present. Like a cold splash of water, he found himself refreshed and an easy laugh escaped as he turned to his attractive partner. "As much as you miss ordering me around."

She smiled, "That much?"

Harm returned the smile before his mood turned serious once more, "I think I get why you love the Marines, Mac."

He turned his eyes back to Bud who had finally succeeded in finding a viable cell phone signal. "It's like coming home to family. Doesn't matter where you've been, what you've done, even who you are. You're a Marine and that's all that matters."

"Careful Harm. If someone overhears you, they might accuse you of being in love with us."

Harm gave her a strange look, one that Mac didn't recognize and couldn't read.

"Sir, ma'am?"

Their moment was interrupted by the young Lieutenant j.g.

"Yes, Bud?" she asked.

"They're ready for us to board, ma'am."

"Ready to return to real life, Mac?" Harm asked as he slung his duffel bag over one shoulder.

"Ready to downgrade from the Marines to the Navy, Harm?" she teased him back.

"Downgrade?" Harm shot her an amused look, his smile threatening to widen into a full blown flyboy grin.

"Well, I can't say much for dress whites, but Marine uniforms or camo... now that's sexy."

As she walked past him to the plane, Harm felt his eyes disobey direct orders and by their own volition trail to her six. And he found that he couldn't disagree with her statement.

* * *

**Next Episode:** Code Blue (2x13)

**AN:** Hope you guys enjoyed this. I wish I could write constantly but life is not cooperating. Fingers crossed with the passing of another birthday, things start looking up for me. Thanks.


	24. Ep 12: Code Blue (Part 1)

**AN:** Hi everybody. Thanks for still reading this (if you are). I hope it's been an entertaining ride for you. Personally, I know it's been an entertaining one for me to write.

I'm posting as much of what I've written before in a bid to speed this series up. I wanna get through as many episodes as quickly as possible so I can start on Season 3.

Okay, I skipped over rewriting The Game Of Go, but know that the episode happened. I will recap briefly what happened there in this episode. Why? Because I had very little to add to GoG - and nothing to change. But it still does play a role in how they feel in the upcoming episode.

* * *

**Episode 12:  
**Code Blue (Part 1)

0400 ZULU  
FLIGHT 229 FROM BOGOTA

Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie tried to stifle a yawn. The darkened interior of the flight back to D.C. made sleep conducive, even as it remained elusive.

Mac let her mind drift over the events of the past week. She recalled the vile presence of Clayton Webb with his fancy suits and slimy grin. He had pulled rank and God knows what else to get them to help save his ass, again. If not for the fact that the body of one dead Marine was being held by the enemy, Mac might have tossed the Special Assistant to the Undersecretary of State out the window. Of course that he had enlisted their help by filing an Article 32 against another Marine, she should have done it anyway.

She supposed that as the finer details of their mission were technically classified, she should be glad she had been spared from the toil of filling tedious paperwork. Alternatively, while it hadn't hurt her passport to travel to warmer climes, that their destination had been drug war plagued Colombia instead of a sunny beach getaway, she hadn't come back with the tan she deserved. The fact she had spent more quality time with an M-16 might have made the Marine in her proud, but the woman inside was mightily dissatisfied.

Why couldn't the drug lord Clay went after own an island hideout instead? She was a Marine, she wanted to storm beaches damn it! Still it hadn't been all bad...

She turned to the man seated next to her and admired his profile as he slept peacefully - or so she thought. His voice startled her.

"Enjoying the view, Mac?"

Lt. Cmdr. Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr. turned to his partner at JAG with alert eyes and a heart stopping grin. Mac remembered to breathe even as her eyes slid to the window next to his head, pretending she was talking about the view outside.

"It's not a postcard, but it sure beats staring at the back of somebody's seat."

He chuckled as he tried to get comfortable in the economy class seats, a task that proved futile in its impossibility.

"Only another 3 hours and 15 minutes before we land, Harm." Mac said without even consulting the watch on her wrist. She had an innate sense of time, the watch was decorative and stopped people from asking her the inevitable question...

"How do you do that?" Harm asked for the umpteenth time in their 5 month, 23 day, 9 hour and 51 minute relationship.

"What?"

"Keep accurate time."

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I'm asking."

In the dark, Mac's voice came out as an almost flirty sigh, "I'm not telling."

"Not even after you tried to kiss me?" Harm's voice came back velvety smooth in what Mac imagined was his bedroom voice.

"I did not try to kiss you."

"Oh, you barely contained yourself. Believe me, dress whites and gold wings..."

"Definitely overrated."

"Would you have preferred if I was wearing less?"

The visual of that had crossed her mind once or twice but she was not about to admit it, "Red light, Commander."

"Hey, you came into my room wearing that dress. I should be giving you the red light."

Mac blushed at the memory, of the tight gray top and floral skirt she had worn. They were the lightest clothes in her bag and she had chosen them because they were also the most cooling and comfortable clothes she had to combat the intense heat of the South American country.

Of course, lightest also meant tightest and in some ways sheerest... "I did not go in to seduce you."

"Right." Harm eyed her skeptically, "So, you didn't come into my bedroom with the sole goal of making me give you what you want?"

_'Did he have to make everything sound so goddamn dirty?' _Mac's indignation broke the seductive spell, "I only wanted you to add Corporal Cordoba to the mission."

"Which I would have if you asked me anywhere, even in uniform. But no, you chose to come to my room in that dress..." he couldn't help but tease.

She caught sight of the amused smile on his lips and punched his shoulder hard, a full on Marine one which actually hurt.

"Ow, Mac!" he whispered harshly, trying not to shout and wake up the other passengers.

"That's what you get for teasing a Marine, squid."

"Believe me, I'm not the one teasing here."

Mac was shocked by his inference, "Are you calling me a tease?"

"Your words, not mine."

"Don't act so innocent, counselor. You seduced a Romanian princess."

"She couldn't resist the dress whites."

"And the gold wings?"

"She couldn't resist those too."

The mirth dancing in his eyes let her know he wasn't serious... at least not entirely. Mac tried to hold it back, but her face fought her and won - she couldn't contain the smile that crept across her face. She also knew it wasn't the dress whites and gold wings that made him so irresistible.

As her mind recalled their close encounter in his room, Mac realized it was becoming harder to deny her reaction to him. And it worried her a little that she wasn't quite as immune to his charms as she initially thought.

oxoxoxo

Harm was stunning in his dress whites and she hated to admit that he had a point about being irresistible. He looked like a white knight right now. A dashing, handsome white knight.

"I wanna take Corporal Cordoba with me." she said, needing to look at anything but him and yet unable to peel her eyes away.

His normally sunny expression dimmed and he stared right into her eyes. "Mac, maybe his weapon jammed and maybe he couldn't get a clear shot off when they grabbed Webb."

They were here talking about the plan to save Webb's six from the drug lord. Cordoba had been with the agent when the man from State had been taken. And Cordoba again failed to act convincingly.

Harm continued, "And maybe he can't pull the trigger."

Mac's own expression grew sterner, "You don't believe that or you wouldn't have defended him to Webb."

"Webb is an ass, and I don't wanna believe it, but I'm not gonna risk this op betting on it."

She didn't back down. "No, but you will risk it betting on your crazy plan."

"Well, it's my six on the line."

"And mine. And the Recon team's, and Webb's, and even if he doesn't go, Corporal Cordoba's."

Harm saw the fire in her eyes and his expression softened. He wagged a finger at her. "You know, you shouldn't have mentioned Webb. You almost blew your point doing that."

Mac was about to protest when she realized what he was really saying. "He goes?"

"He goes."

She stepped up to him, reached up and pulled his head down towards hers. And then she caught herself. She was inches from his face... hardly any space at all. She looked up into his eyes and saw the surprise in them. She could imagine those eyes ablaze with desire...

_No! This was wrong._

His lips were so close, she could imagine what they'd feel like pressed hard against hers, what he would taste like, what his tongue would feel like as it slipped into her mouth and slid against hers...

_No! She couldn't. She shouldn't._

He stood there frozen, but she saw the second he started to overcome his surprise. He waited for her next move and she knew he wouldn't fight her if she kissed him.

_It was wrong. This was wrong._

She knew that if she kissed him, it would complicate everything, change everything, endanger everything. Not just the op, but everything she held dear. She knew he would destroy every protective wall she had spent a lifetime building up. He wouldn't even have to try all that hard. Maybe he wouldn't even have to try at all. All he would have to do was lean down and kiss her like she wanted him to...

She pulled away. She wondered if he would stop her and force himself on her. If he would take what she herself had almost offered just seconds before.

He didn't. And she was glad he didn't, because she didn't know how to react if he did. Every warning bell in her body was going off and she didn't know how to silence it.

"Thanks." she said and quickly left his room. She knew she was actually running away, ignoring her Marine blood to beat a hasty retreat. Still she decided that she could do it with style and class. She walked as steadily as her ingrained Marine bearing allowed until she went around the corner. Once she was hidden from view, she leaned against the cool brick wall. She could feel how hot her cheeks felt, how they burned in embarrassment.

_'Stupid, stupid, stupid.' _she berated herself. She had almost thrown away everything important to her because of one moment of weakness. Because she was feeling a little lonely. Because she thought he looked nice in his dress whites and gold wings. Because he had saved her life more than once and had held her safely in her sleep.

_His warm body was right up against hers in bed, her back to his front. She had woken up when she felt something poke gently into her back. It took her a groggy half minute to shake off the vestiges of sleep._

_It took her another 30 seconds to realize what was poking her. It was his aroused male reaction in the middle of the night pressing right against her butt. She turned her head to peek at him over her shoulder to see he was deep asleep... his face was serene, unguarded, unaware. That meant his body's reaction was unconscious, it was only reacting to the warmth of another human body - a female body. _

_He pulled her closer against him and she just managed to stop a gasp from escaping. She could feel even more of him now, his hardened length pressed fully against her, seeking access into her shorts, seeking access into parts beyond. Her mind raced and she knew what this was. It was biological imperative at work - the male human body taking advantage of any opportunity to propagate, to spread its seed as far, as wide and as often as it could. She knew he didn't desire her this way. Or any other way._

Mac shook off the thought. She didn't desire him either she told herself. And she was ready to shout it at herself as often as she needed to hear it until she believed it to be true.

oxoxoxo

FOUR DAYS LATER  
1620 ZULU  
WASHINGTON, D.C.

'Eight down, two to go'.

His long stride ate up the miles at a blistering pace, when Harm decided that maybe it was time to slow his gait. The last two miles of his run should be enough of a cooling down and it wasn't like he was getting back into optimum shape for his carrier qualifications just yet.

He had made the decision to slow down when he heard her coming up behind him. Sarah MacKenzie, or Mac to her acquaintances, caught up to him and slowed her pace to match his.

"Keeping up a pretty good pace for an old man." she sassed her handsome colleague.

He glanced at her and couldn't help but wonder if she made everything she wore look good - even when it was just a baggy USMC sweatshirt and running pants. "The last couple of miles are a cool down." he explained truthfully.

"Oh really? How far are you going today?" she asked, barely breaking a sweat.

He tried not to let her get to him even as he picked up his pace, "The usual. Ten miles. You?"

"The usual. Fifteen." she said as she sped up to pass him.

He wasn't about to let her get away with her taunts. Harm took off like a shot and suddenly they were both in a race. He might be completing his work out but this 'old man' still had some juice left in his legs.

When he didn't see her behind him, he was sure he had her left for dead. Until he heard her amused laugh when she descended from a sneaky short cut drawing level with him. They cut across the road when a blaring car horn and screeching brakes made him turn around.

"Mac, look out!"

Harm shoved her aside and found himself the loser of a battle versus a car. He rolled onto the hood and for a brief moment he could swear he was airborne. His landing though left a lot to be desired as he came down heavily.

Mac barely saw what happened but she had seen enough to know Harm was not in a good way. She was on her feet in a flash, running towards her fallen partner. There was no way to hide the concern in her voice as she told the driver to "Call 9-1-1."

When she found Harm face down on the road, she feared the worst. "Hang in there, Harm." she rolled him over and he was conscious. Dazed, but conscious. "You're going to be okay." she said more in hope that it was true.

Harm stared up at her beautiful face and knew everything was going to be okay. He smiled up at her.

"Hey, Diane." he sighed as unconsciousness came swiftly.

oxoxoxo

1830 ZULU  
MERCY HOSPITAL  
WASHINGTON, D.C.

Mac stood at the reception counter, her already short patience so worn out that she had to depend on the reserves instilled in her by the Marine Corps. Even those were beginning to expire. She knew that the hospital was no place for raised voices but if there was someone who needed a good shouting at it was the nurse manning the desk.

Still, no one got anywhere by antagonizing a nurse, so for the umpteenth time, Mac tried to be polite to the blonde African-American woman who seemed more interested in doing anything but actually help.

"What's the name again?" the nurse asked.

"Harmon Rabb. I brought him in over an hour ago." Mac repeated.

"Spell it." said the nurse with a million things better to do, but apparently still had time to conduct a spelling bee.

"H-A-R-M-O-N, R-A-B-B. He was hit by a car."

"And you're sure they brought him here." the nurse asked with equal parts boredom and skepticism.

"I brought him in myself." Mac reminded herself to breathe, keep calm and not ram her fist into the nearest object she could find.

After a few keystrokes the nurse answered happily, "He's not in the computer." The phone rang and as if the nurse was expecting it, she picked it up before it could ring again. "Reception. Hi!"

Obviously whomever was on the phone was more important than finding Harm. Mac could feel her anger rise, "So what does that mean?" her voice taking on more of an edge.

"Either he's not been admitted, or he was taken straight to the morgue."

Something said over the phone made the nurse laugh and made Mac want to send the nurse straight to the morgue herself. The nurse noticed Mac's growing distress.

"Would you like me to check?"

"Yes. Please." she said even as she kept telling herself to keep breathing calmly. And not kill anyone. At least not until she found out if Harm was okay.

oxoxoxo

Harm looked around the emergency ward, noting that he was lucky to have snagged a bed on this busy Sunday. After getting his x-rays done in 20 minutes, he'd been sitting here for what seemed the better part of an hour. He wished Mac was here beside him to tell him exactly how much time had elapsed.

It wasn't like he was in a lot of pain. Granted the cut on his leg felt like it had been scalded with hot grease, but it wasn't something painkillers and a good night's rest wouldn't cure.

He spied his doctor approach reviewing his x-rays and made his decision to get out of here pronto.

"You know, it's really not that bad." Harm said, laying down the first part of his plan.

Obviously he wasn't enough of a doctor for the nurse to take his diagnosis seriously. Especially when she prepared a worryingly large syringe.

Harm failed to keep the apprehension out of his voice. "What's that?"

The cute brunette doctor looked up at her handsome patient and with a small smile answered, "Antibiotics. You got yourself a pretty nasty gash, in addition to some ligament damage and a slight concussion. I'll have our orthopedic specialist look at your leg. I'll like to keep you overnight for observation."

No, his best laid plans were going up in smoke. "In the hospital?" Harm asked.

The doctor deadpanned, "Well, I think it's a little early in our relationship for you to stay at my place."

It took a moment for Harm to realize the doctor was joking, but for a long minute, she didn't look like she was. The doctor motioned for him to get on his side as the nurse prepared to give him a shot.

Harm tried again to downplay his injury, "You know I'm pretty used to being banged around. I used to be a fighter pilot. Ow!"

The antibiotic shot was not gentle. Anything but.

"And I used to be a professional wrestler." the doc deadpanned again, amusing the nurse. "I'll send your girlfriend in to see you. She's outside asking about you."

"Girlfriend?" Harm asked, confused.

"Pretty brunette. Practically carried you in, I heard."

Harm blushed, they were describing Mac. "She's not my girlfriend."

The doctor quirked an eyebrow, a sign for him to go on with his story.

Harm clarified Mac's role in his life, "She's my partner. Colleague."

"Pretty concerned for just a colleague."

"She's a pretty good colleague." he said with a smile.

The doctor squinted at him, "Not your type?"

Harm didn't know how to respond to that question and the resulting conflict was painted all over his face.

"Gay?" the doctor asked hoping to ease his dilemma, surprising Harm.

"She's not gay."

"I'm talking about you."

"I'm not," Harm realized his volume and quietened down, "I'm not gay."

The doctor rolled her eyes at that. _'That's what they all say.'_ "I'll send her in."

Seconds later, Mac pulled back the ER curtain divider to find him. Seeing him awake, lucid if banged up made her normally stoic demeanor fail to engage. Instead she revealed all the warmth and concern she felt.

"How you feeling, sailor?" she asked, her voice smoother than chocolate and beyond sexy.

Trying his best not to react to her surprisingly alluring tone, if only so he wouldn't have a tent pole in his sweatpants to explain, he resorted to humor. "Like I was hit by a car?"

Him being well enough to make a joke was enough to make her feel better. But his next words raised concerns once more.

"They want me to stay the night, so maybe you can get a 24-hour recess on the Aaron case."

"Bud's already working on it." she stepped in closer, wanting to touch him or run her fingers through his hair, but she resisted the urge, "You had me worried Harm. I mean, nobody was telling me anything." she added, unable to keep the tenderness out of her voice.

He found himself staring at her lips and he couldn't help but wonder what they tasted like. For a second it was Bogota once more. For a second he hoped she would complete her move. It was a brief moment of curiosity before he realized where they were and who they were. He leaned back suddenly faced with the need to put distance between them.

"Well, it looked a lot worse than it was. I've had harder carrier landings." he said with as much glibness as he could.

"Well I wanna..." Mac had to regain her composure, _'Breathe Marine, breathe.' _before resuming, "I want to thank you for pushing me out of the way."

"Oh hey, it wasn't nothing you wouldn't have done." a slow smile formed on his lips, and he taunted, "If you'd been a little faster."

She thought he was teasing her, so she teased back, "Well some of us are built for speed, others for... comfort." Damn the slight hitch in her voice. She hoped he hadn't caught it.

Harm heard it. He looked at her and she didn't seem aware of her affect on his senses right now. He cursed his body's reaction to her.

She was attractive, sure, she was an attractive woman. And he hadn't been with a woman in a while... it was all very logical. His body didn't care if it was her or the hot barista at the coffee place down the street - an attractive woman was a woman, and a woman he should be using to quench his desire. He needed comfort, relief, release.

Mac might have been built for comfort, but she wasn't built to be treated that way. And she shouldn't be used that way. He regained some form of control over his primal urges. His body still wanted the aforementioned comfort she was so obviously built for, but his mind won out this day.

"Nonetheless if there's anything you need..." she asked, again her tone sounded suggestive to him, though he was sure she didn't mean it to be. His eyes scanned every contour of her trim, fit body... who was he kidding, he couldn't get past looking at her chest. Her sexy, usually hidden under her uniform chest...

Harm tried to pry his eyes away from her body. The tight running suit she wore did little to hide her obvious curves. He forced his eyes up to her face. Her hair had grown out some since her last haircut. He liked it better this way, even though when it was shorter it made her look less like Diane. Now...

He heard her question hang in the air, her expressive eyes looking at him with all the concern in the world. He lightened the mood.

"I'm a little hungry. Maybe you can grab me something from the cafeteria."

"You're braver than I thought." Mac sighed, a smile coming easily to mask the concern.

As she walked away, Mac realized she had so many questions for him, chief among which was, who was the woman he asked for when she turned him over after the accident. _'Who was Diane?'_ and should she call her?

The doctor told her about his concussion so she didn't want to push him too hard for answers. She knew there was time to question him about it later, and she hoped he'd give her the answers she wanted, but for now it was time to grab some chow for stick boy.

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter.**

**AN:** If you feel compelled to review, I would feel compelled to write more. Oh, who am I kidding, I hate blackmailing you guys for feedback so I won't even try. But that doesn't change the fact that I wouldn't mind if you did review though. :)


	25. Ep 12: Code Blue (Part 2)

**AN:** Hi guys, thanks for all the reads so far. And of course, as always, the reviews :D

Oh, before I forget (again) thank you everyone for your birthday greetings. :)

And now on to the rest of the show! This is part 2 of 2.

* * *

**Episode 12:  
**Code Blue (Part 2)

2020 ZULU  
MERCY HOSPITAL CAFETERIA  
WASHINGTON, D.C.

This was not how she planned to spend her weekend. First, her partner of 5 months, 28 days, 2 hours and 11 minutes was hit by a car, then after taking forever to see him, she barely spent 3 minutes with him before he sent her to the cafeteria to buy him an extortionately priced lunch. _'No salad, no matter how delicious should be priced that high. And it should come with some cow - not just what a cow eats.' _she thought to herself as she finally paid.

She heard the rising uproar before the first barrage of bullets were fired. She dove to the floor immediately and saw them standing by the doors - terrorists!

They were taking over the hospital, remodeling the interior with machine guns and a clumsy ruthlessness that made them far more dangerous than trained soldiers. At least trained soldiers hit what they aimed for. Here, with about forty civilians and doctors held hostage, amateurs wouldn't even need to hit their intended target to make their point, so Mac knew now wasn't the time to play heroic Marine.

She tried to sneak out a side entrance, but stopped the minute she was discovered. She looked up and saw that even though the man held his machine gun loosely, by the time she overpowered him, his friends would have filled at least some of the other hostages with lead. So she gave up and allowed herself to be herded back to the others.

Mac took the time to assess the situation, quickly committing to memory the hostage takers names, defining characteristics and hierarchy. Mac recognized they spoke Farsi - the official language of Iran. They spoke it openly and loudly, feeling confident they didn't need to hide it. From everyone else they were right. From Mac though, she understood every single word they said.

Her secret though didn't remain one for long, since one particularly brave doctor foolhardily stood up to one of the hostage takers, using the bullying tone that may have gotten her through medical school, internship and this job, but would get her no where when the returning argument was the wrong end of an Uzi being stuck in her face.

Mac jumped to action, revealing her inherent Farsi skills - developed from spending her formative years with her Persian grandmother. She spoke quickly, talking the hostage taker down, talking his finger away from the trigger. If not for Mac, the good doctor would also be a very dead one.

She was successful and she led the brave doctor away but Mac couldn't help but curse the fact that for the next few minutes all the chatter in Farsi was about the fact that she could speak it too. One of them suggested shooting her. Another suggested something much worse, and that they could all take turns doing that something worse to her. But the voice of reason - or at least authority - issued from their de facto leader finally won out. They'd do nothing to her. They won't deviate from the plan.

Mac positioned herself closer to the brave doctor, partly to overhear the nearby terrorists discuss further instructions. However they were keenly aware of her now and so always moved out of earshot when she was near.

"Are you okay?" Mac asked the doctor rubbing her arm, bruised from where she had been roughly handled.

"I think so. What language is that?" the doctor kept her voice low, careful not to attract more undue attention.

"Farsi. My grandmother is Persian."

"What did you say to them?"

"I told them not to shoot. That you were just trying to help."

"Thanks. Who are these guys?" the doctor eyed them, wondering what they were after. With this much weaponry, why not hold up a bank - not that it was a better target, but at least she didn't work there.

"I guess they're Jihad or Hamas terrorists."

And finally it made sense to the doctor. "They're here for Barruch."

Barruch? Mac tried to place the name when the news reports circulating the overhead TVs in JAG Headquarters came back to her. Semadar Barruch - Israeli Minister of West Bank Security.

Minister Barruch's heart transplant would have normally passed by unnoticed, if not for the fact that he was an important official of a foreign government who had immediately and mysteriously jumped to the top of the heart transplant list.

To say that it had angered many of the patients on the list, their families and the general population at the blatant favoritism displayed here was an understatement. Protests around the Israeli Embassy as well as increased crime against Jewish communities nationwide had caused a deterioration between US-Israeli relations.

When the media finally uncovered the identity of the minister receiving the heart, it also alerted every terror cell and hardliner sympathetic to the Palestinian cause in the Western hemisphere and spurred them to action.

"Please somebody help me."

The plaintive cry drew the doctor immediately to her feet with Mac close behind, only for the Uzi wielding terrorist to manhandle the doctor once more, getting her reacquainted with the lethal end of his gun.

"She could be going into cardiac arrest." the doctor pointed to the elderly woman suffering on the floor.

The agitated terrorist didn't understand her words but decided that he didn't like the tone she said it. Mac stepped in to diffuse the situation again, her Farsi coming thick and fast informing the terrorist of the doctor's intentions.

Mac feared for a second that the terrorist would solve the elderly woman's heart problems for them, with the aid of a bullet. Mac tried to hold eye contact with the terrorist, hoping to hold his attention enough so he wouldn't be impulsive.

It worked as he waved the doctor through.

The doctor was instantly beside the old woman. "It's okay, you're going to be okay. Take a couple of deep breaths for me, alright?"

Seeing Mac beside her, the doctor turned to her. "That's two I owe you. I'm Jenna."

"Mac."

"You're with the good looking sailor who doesn't look both ways before crossing the street." Jenna pulled out her stethoscope from her lab coat.

"His name is Harm." Mac said, not realizing that even the thought of him drew a small smile to her lips.

"I hope your friend Harm is staying out of trouble."

"If I know Harm, he isn't."

Jenna worked quickly to examine the old woman's heart rate. "That's right, deep breaths." she coached her patient who did as she was told. "We can lower her BP if she calmed down, but without meds I don't think it'll help much."

"And them waving guns around isn't helping much either." Mac said as from this vantage point she had a clearer view of the room. Five terrorists, all armed and all on edge.

"Maybe you can tell them we really need to get her out of here." Jenna posited, sure with Mac's language skills they could do it.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Jenna." Mac replied, her eyes still surveying the room. Even poorly trained, the terrorists obviously knew how to secure a room as all the exits were blocked. "If they feel we're too much trouble to keep alive, they might stop trying to keep us that way."

"Well that's just peachy to know." Unable to do anything more, Jenna removed her stethoscope, allowing the nurses to help calm the old woman's nerves. Needing a distraction, no matter how small, Jenna whispered to Mac, curious about a certain patient in particular.

"So your friend, Harm... is he seeing anyone?"

Jenna caught Mac's stare. "He said you two weren't together."

"We work together."

"But there's more." Jenna stated plainly.

"He's saved my life a couple of times."

"Heroic and handsome, a hard combination to beat." Jenna admitted, ignoring the slight twinge of jealousy that took root. Despite whatever Harm had said, obviously he cared for this 'colleague' enough to risk his own skin for her well being. And judging from Mac's reaction to his name, the feeling was mutual.

Mac changed the subject abruptly, "Are there any other ways out of here?"

"Unless you have the ability to turn invisible." Jenna deadpanned and drew only a humorless stare from Mac. "Maybe if we create a distraction."

"Too risky. I don't want to give them a reason to shoot at us."

Jenna glanced at the very composed young woman. While Jenna was confident of her own looks and charms, she also knew she paled in comparison to the exotic beauty beside her. If the good looking sailor was immune to Mac, he really had to be gay. She noticed the loosening sweatshirt around Mac's waist and the words emblazoned on it.

"USMC mean what I think it means?"

Mac looked at Jenna, surprised by the sudden left field question. Jenna surreptitiously indicated the United States Marine Corps initials clearly seen on her sweatshirt.

"You may wanna hide that better in case they can read." Jenna said.

"Well, let's hope they're not that bright." Mac replied before quickly retying the sweatshirt around her waist.

oxoxoxo

2124 ZULU  
ICU WARD  
LEVEL 4, MERCY HOSPITAL

Pain shot up Harm's leg as he crouched behind the ICU partition. He bit back a curse as he peeked above the barrier to see his latest hunter - a young terrorist of obvious Middle Eastern descent holding his Uzi a little too tightly. A novice. Unfortunately he was being coached by a more experienced extremist, meaning any move to overpower the younger man bordered on suicide.

The loud wail of the heart rate machine drowned out all sound so Harm couldn't hear what the two terrorists were saying. Harm had barely had enough time to drag himself and his aching knee into this room after he had tried and failed to resuscitate the dead old man.

The death wail attracted the attention of the young gunman. He entered the room beside Harm's, the thin part-glass partition was all that separated them. Harm saw the sorrow etched on the rookie terrorist's conflicted expression and it was reflected by his trembling hand as it turned off the heart rate monitor, plunging the ICU back into the unearthly hum of life sustaining beeps and pumping valves.

As the young terrorist moved away from the ICU ward the squawk of his walkie-talkie made him jump. He fumbled for it nervously and Harm wondered if the rookie was more afraid of the person on the other end than the situation he found himself in. That would explain why the young man was going along with this. Harm knew that while he may appeal to the rookie to give himself up, that spell would be broken the minute that radio squawked to life.

_'Shit.' _Harm cursed internally as he saw the rookie stay there, receiving instructions. In the quiet Harm could just make out the bone-chilling words coming over the radio.

"Zaki. Kill a patient."

Harm quickly looked around for something to overpower the young terrorist known as Zaki. He surveyed his surroundings for a weapon and found nothing better than an IV stand, and that was hardly going to cut it against an assault rifle even if it was wielded by an inexpert shooter.

He patted down the pockets of the green scrubs he had put on. He had found them in the doctor's lounge and changed into them so he wouldn't have to run around in a hospital gown. The pockets were empty.

Harm peered over the partition again and saw the conflict in Zaki's body language. He swayed to and fro, his gun swinging from side to side. He was choosing his victim, there wasn't much time to stop him.

Aside from the prone forms in the ICU ward, Harm knew of at least two other patients around the vicinity - the old Navy man named Walter Hume Harm shared a room with, and an extremely in-labor redhead whom he hadn't caught the name of. He had to hope that Zaki wouldn't find either.

Of course, one of the terrorists had spied him trying to diffuse one of the bombs at the stair door, so they knew he was around. Perhaps if he gave himself up... no, that would save one victim now, but with him dead, there was no way to stop the terrorists from claiming other lives.

He heard Zaki return to the room with the dead man and knew time was up. He heard Zaki release the safety mechanism of the Uzi and quickly covered his ears. Seconds before deafening gunfire ripped into the already deceased victim.

Harm snuck a look over the partition and saw Zaki start to disconnect the man from his machines and wheel out the bed. He was going to send the body down as a message to the police and who knew who else was waiting downstairs. They would receive the message that the terrorists were serious.

But they wouldn't know the truth, Zaki had chosen a dead man to shoot. Perhaps there was still hope to stop the bloodshed after all.

oxoxoxo

0004 ZULU  
ROOFTOP HELIPAD  
MERCY HOSPITAL

Summer made the night air thick with humidity, but Mac couldn't decide if the sweat sticking to her brow was one caused by heat, or one caused by fear.

The sound of rotors approaching made Mac aware of the red and white medical helicopter before she caught sight of it. She stayed off the helipad as the chopper settled down, but not before she cast an eye at the stairwell door.

She saw the muzzle of an AK-47 pointed at her, letting her know that she shouldn't get any bright ideas like try and escape on the helicopter. Seeing the doors of the chopper slide open, Mac started to move.

Only to be stilled by shouted Farsi reminding her that if she took another step, it would be her last. She froze and waited for the paramedic to set the cooler box down on the helipad and rush back to the safety of the helicopter. Only when the chopper had lifted off was she allowed to secure the cargo.

Picking up the cooler box, she turned around and saw the plethora of SWAT up on the roof. They waved her forward, telling her to act like she'd seen nothing. She kept her gaze low and moved back towards the stairwell where the terrorists pulled her along roughly and walked her down at gunpoint. While her physical movements were being closely monitored, Mac's mind was racing through a whole host of possible scenarios and plans.

Mac knew the SWAT team on the roof wouldn't move in until either one of two things happened. One, the hostage takers were distracted by their mission enough to let their guard slip. Or two, enough of the hostages were dead that storming in was the option of lesser evil.

So really there was only one option for Mac. She still couldn't help but worry that if she tried anything, she might only cause the second scenario.

oxoxoxo

0032 ZULU  
MATERNITY WARD  
LEVEL 4, MERCY HOSPITAL

Chief Walter Hume, US Navy (retired) looked at the young pregnant woman in labor on the bed and tried to get her to concentrate on her breathing, just like what the young whippersnapper advised him to do. Lt. Cmdr. Harmon Rabb Jr. - now what was it that he did again?

Sure, his memory wasn't what it used to be, not after he stood too close to a deck explosion on the USS New Orleans... no, it was the USS Minneapolis... no... well, it was the greatest US Naval warship of WWII. Walter never forgot a face, date or serial number. Was it his fault if the blasted doctors at this hospital got bent out of shape over the fact that he didn't remember unimportant details such as his rank, life or address? He was a Navy man, the sea was his address.

"Where are the damn doctors in this hospital?!" the cute redhead screamed and Walter quickly hushed her down.

"There there, missy. Breathe..."

Obviously the wrong words to say, as the pregnant woman grabbed Walter's by the lapels and pulled him to her face. "If you don't find me a doctor to get this baby out of me now, I'll see how many centimeters you can dilate."

Another contraction hit her causing her to release her hold on Walter's pajamas and let loose a tirade - bit out through tightly clenched teeth. It was not a loud tirade but it still made Walter's ears burn at her colorful language.

He was a sailor and he was proud he could swear with the finest of them, but whatever came out of this tiny woman's mouth had come straight from the bowels of hell itself to lay waste to everything on Earth. Walter was glad he was not this pretty firecracker's husband, because after the things she just said, he wouldn't be surprised to find him lying face down in a pool of his own blood with his head buried three states away.

"The Commander will find you a doctor." Walter said, gently patting the woman's hand, careful not to let her grab it in case she decided to rip it off him.

"What Commander?" she demanded in between breathing exercises.

"Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb Jr." Walter explained. At her confused and blank stare back, he described him to create understanding, "The young man just now."

"Oh... the shy handsome one."

That was one way of describing him, Walter nodded. "That's right and he's a hero. Navy SEAL." he added with a conspiratorial tap of his nose, "Nothing built tougher than a Navy SEAL. Why he once trekked four days in the Afghan desert with no sleep and little water just to find the enemy hideout once. Damn Ruskies were supplying the Arabs see, and..."

Keeping her entertained with Harmon Rabb's exploits as seen in Rambo III, Walter made the woman concentrate on something other than her impending contractions which were now starting to hit with more regularity and force.

After her latest contraction, she complained, "Well he better not be trekking through no desert for four days to find me a goddamn doctor!"

oxoxoxo

0210 ZULU  
OUTSIDE THE O.R.  
LEVEL 2, MERCY HOSPITAL

It was a blessing Mac spoke Farsi, so the terrorists conversation squawking over the radio held no secrets from her. It was also a blessing that she had, with the aid of a clever plan to fill the O.R with anesthesia gas, knocked out the remaining hostage taker in the operating theater.

Grabbing the Uzi from the incapacitated terrorist, Mac gave instructions to the team of doctors to lock down the O.R. as she rushed out the door. She had a squid with a gimpy leg to save.

Mac rapidly tapped the button of the elevator, willing it to arrive immediately. It didn't, meaning that each second that ticked by - 18 so far - worked her nerves to breaking point.

She knew that somewhere on the fourth floor Mustapha Ben Kessar - the leader of the terrorist group who took over the hospital was hunting down Harm.

She knew that as resourceful as her partner was, he was no Navy SEAL as they believed he was. She wondered how that particular rumor had started, but whomever started it was not doing Harm any favors.

The wait for the elevator was excruciating, so she checked the Uzi in her hand once more. A full clip, trigger set to semi-auto, no gunpowder smell - an unused gun. She hoped it stayed that way if possible. When the elevator finally arrived, she stepped inside, punching the button for the 4th level.

oxoxoxo

Harm heard the taunts of the leader of the terrorist group, heard him set down the cooler box with the transplant heart, heard the distinctive metal slap of the Uzi being waved in his hand. He heard it but he didn't pay attention to it.

His focus at the moment was the near imperceptible whine coming from the cardioversion machine charging up to maximum. He didn't know what charge to set so he had set it to maximum and hoped for the best. As the machine came to life, Harm knew he had only one shot at this and hoped that it was all he needed.

With the cooler box set down, Mustapha made his way closer to the infidel who dared to interfere with this holy agenda. He walked with cautious precision towards the tall man hiding around the corner, revealing a better angle for a kill shot. He stepped on the wet floor, drenched by the stupid American's feeble attempt to slow him down.

Harm heard the soft squelch of dress shoes on a puddle. He had noticed earlier the fact that the terrorist stalking him had decided that rubber soles were a luxury he didn't need, and gave thanks.

Ducking to avoid being shot, Harm whirled round and knocked the two cardioversion paddles down to the slick floor, sending DC current surging through Mustapha's uninsulated footwear, up his feet and through his body, tripping his heart and stopping it good.

As Mustapha fried, his finger spasmed and held on to the hair trigger of his Uzi, unloading its entire clip. Harm took cover until the shooting stopped.

Turning off the cardioversion machine, Harm quickly stepped out to assess the damage - one slightly crisped and very dead terrorist, numerous bullet holes in the ceiling, walls, floor and...

_'Oh no.'_ Harm's face fell when he laid eyes on the organ transplant cooler box. Four very large bullet holes had pierced it, the plastic offering little resistance to hot lead. He ignored the liquid fire running through his knee as he rushed over to check the heart inside, hoping against hope the organ survived unscathed.

Popping open the canister revealed that the hope had been in vain. Harm's head dropped.

He heard the elevator ping as it arrived at his floor. Harm was instantly brought back to the present and searched for another weapon. Aside from the now empty Uzi in the dead terrorist's hand, he had nothing. Perhaps another run at electrocution...

Too late as he couldn't get up from his crouched position. He heard the soft footsteps run up round the corner. He looked up to face his attacker head on.

And saw the most beautiful sight in the world. Her short hair was tousled, her face flushed with effort and worry, her body in the tight running suit accentuating her very alluring curves, the gun in her hand making her all the more sexier.

"Don't shoot, Marine."

Relief flooded Mac's features and she lowered the Uzi.

"Harm are you okay?"

"Yeah. Though my leg is killing me."

She approached him quickly and he held up his hands to slow her, her well being suddenly more immediate than his own.

"Careful Mac, the floor's wet."

She noticed. She came up carefully beside him to wrap her arm around his waist. She supported him, allowing him to shift his weight off his miserable right leg. His own arm went around her shoulder as he rested more of his weight against her.

"What the hell happened? Where's Mustapha?"

Pointing round the corner, Harm showed her Mustapha's fate. She saw the dead terrorist and a second later, also saw the destroyed organ cooler box.

"The heart!"

"It's gone, he accidentally shot it. I'm sorry." Harm explained sadly.

"This isn't good, Harm. The minister needs a transplant now. What are we going to do?"

"I guess they'll need to find another heart."

"Where? Unless the terrorists are hiding one, there's no time."

Her words sparked an idea, maybe crazy, but what else did they have at this point? Harm looked down at Mac, capturing her with his gaze.

"They just might have a heart, Mac. Can you get the doctor up here?"

Using the walls as a guide, he released his hold on her and gently pushed her toward the elevator as he went in the opposite direction.

Mac was surprised by his sudden move. "Where are you going?"

Harm called back over his shoulder, "Gonna save the day."

Seeing him move rapidly down the corridor, Mac quickly ran to the elevator.

oxoxoxo

0334 ZULU  
PRIVATE ROOM  
LEVEL 5, MERCY HOSPITAL

Harm's crazy idea had worked. After Mac led the doctor and the police up to the ICU, Harm explained the situation. One of the terrorists, a young photography student named Zaki was not an extremist like the others. Harm revealed that Zaki was on the verge of helping him resolve the hostage situation when he had been shot in the head by one of his conspirators, and that Walter had managed to get him on life support.

"Seen too many of my friends on these machines to not learn a thing or two." Walter gave by way of explanation. Old age had claimed more of his buddies than war did.

With Zaki pronounced brain dead, they still needed permission from Zaki's next of kin to authorize using the young Palestinian's organs for transplant. In this case, it was his mother.

Utilizing State Department resources, Mac found the bereaved woman and got her on the phone within 30 minutes. Speaking in fluent Farsi, Mac informed the poor woman of her son's situation, and was horrified to discover that the woman had lost her other son, Rafat in a failed terrorist attempt. Despite her sorrow, the woman had stated that such was Allah's will, and if Rafat was the source of darkness that led her and her son to such a dark place, then perhaps Zaki's sacrifice would provide the peace necessary to return them all to heaven's graces.

With the transplant surgery a success, Mac was finally allowed to escort Harm to his new hospital room. In appreciation of his earlier heroics, hospital administration moved him to a private room of his own, on the floor where the cute nurses worked, Mac noted. Mac helped him onto his bed.

"You okay, Harm?"

"Yeah." he sighed as the sweet comfort of soft sheets soothed his aching body. "Hey, you've been here all day..."

"I couldn't leave the hospital, remember? Lots of angry men with guns."

"Yeah." he sighed again as he propped his leg up on the raised pad. The painkillers had kicked in but even then nothing eased the pressure and discomfort of his knee like completely resting it.

"You want me to stay?" Mac asked, her concern coming off in waves.

He smiled at her and took her hand. "Nah. Wouldn't want the Admiral to get the idea that you put me in the hospital..." he teased, "...even if you did."

"Well, maybe if you weren't so skinny, stick boy, you'd have survived fighting a car a little better."

"Or maybe if I'd been built for comfort..." he said as his head suddenly felt too heavy to keep up. He settled down on the pillows.

Noticing his fatigue, Mac stroked his hand, conveying as much comfort as she could, letting him know it was okay to fall asleep on her, all without words. A touch, a look, a smile. Mac didn't know when it had happened between them but that was often all they needed to convey their thoughts.

"Do you think the woman will name her baby 'Mac'?"

Mac smiled at that memory. He was referring to the baby he had helped deliver earlier during the hostage crisis. The little boy had wailed at being named 'Harmon Walter' after Harm and the old man. At the sound of Mac's name though, the baby had calmed right down.

"The boy has good taste."

"The boy is barely five minutes old. I think he's soft in the head." Harm smiled as he turned suddenly sleepy eyes towards her. "But I'm glad he's not named after me..."

"Why not?"

"Maybe, my son..." he yawned.

Mac saw his eyelids slide shut and felt his hold on her hand weaken. She noticed how the rise and fall of his chest evened out to slow, deep breaths, signifying he was out like a light. She waited a few more minutes to make sure he wouldn't wake before removing her hand from his light grasp.

As she exited the door to his room, she eyed the attractive nurses and hoped that none of them were tempted to play doctor with her flyboy in the middle of the night. Realizing she was overreacting and dismissing it as fatigue, she made her way to the elevators and punched the down button.

In all the excitement she'd forgotten all about the name Diane and she never ever got around to asking Harm about it.

It was only when the cab had pulled up in front of her apartment building that she realized that she had spent the last 20 minutes and 17 seconds wondering what a child with Harm's looks would look like.

* * *

**Next Episode:** Rendezvous (2x15)

**AN:** I hope you guys enjoyed this. I'd like to know if you did. It'll be nice to know if you did.

As to the Diane factor - yeah, it's an ongoing situation as I figure out how it'll play out. Just because Mac may find out doesn't make it go away, Harm does have trouble letting go of stuff sometimes. I'll explain it better within a story next time out.

To fans of my other fics - I do realize that this isn't as shipper as the others. I am playing within the confines of the original TV show with this one - so yes, things will move at snail's pace by comparison to my other fics. However, there is one promise I can make - Harm & Mac will get together waaay before Season 10. After all, it is the reason why I'm retelling the story. :)

A Time & Place fans - I am working on Chapter 7, and the delay to that is not in any way due to my sudden prolificness with this story. If anything, writing this has made my struggles with ATP easier. :P

*No, neither Harm (nor DJE) was in Rambo III. But Walter Hume thinks he was. Moral of story: Don't stand too close to explosions.


	26. Ep 13: Rendezvous (Part 1)

**AN:** Yay, welcome to the penultimate episode of Season 2 (originally the last episode of JAG Season 2). I have an original episode planned for the season finale.

Thank you to everyone for your great reviews, especially Shelly M. Thank you so much for thinking that highly of my episodes - and I too wished I was on the original writing team - in the sense that I could have a Hollywood career by now :) Hopefully one day.

* * *

**Previously on JAG - Retold**

(Ep 6: Trinity)  
It was New Years 1970, the start of a new decade, but there was no joy in the Rabb household. Young five-year old Harmon Rabb Jr. stared at the front door as adults - friends of his mom and dad mingled in the living room.

"Mom?" he called and the adults noticed him standing there.

"Where's daddy?" Harm asked.

oxoxoxo

(Ep 12: Code Blue)  
Harm shoved his beautiful JAG partner Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie aside and found himself the loser of a battle versus a car. He rolled onto the hood and for a brief moment he could swear he was airborne. But soon he landed heavily, ungracefully, painfully.

Mac rushed to his side and rolled him over. "Hang in there, Harm. You're going to be okay." she said.

Harm stared up at her familiar features and smiled. "Hey, Diane." he sighed.

oxoxoxo

(Ep 1: We The People)  
"I keep forgetting I don't know you." Harm said as his smile dimmed.

"Déjá vu again?" Mac asked.

"Only whenever I see your face. Or hear you talk. I wouldn't know about your smile, I haven't seen one yet."

Mac glanced at him and saw the defeated slump in his shoulders.

"Sounds like I have a twin out there." she said.

He didn't want to remember her that way. But he did. The love of his life, Diane Schonke, dead on that Norfolk pier, her blood seeping through her chest wound, seeping through her shirt...

"Not anymore." Harm said darkly.

oxoxoxo

(Ep 5: People v. O'Hara)  
Mac let her hands fall to her lap and she looked down at them. Harm could read her body language and the sudden change in her mood made him concerned.

"Mac? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Not nothing. Tell me."

Mac looked at Harm and for the first time let him see the pain in her eyes. "My father used to hit my mother."

Complete shock ran up Harm's spine, paralyzing him for a second. "What?"

"My father was a drunk. And he wasn't a very happy one."

oxoxoxo

(Ep 6: Trinity)  
"Are you angry at your father?"

Harm stared at Dr. Sandra Chang, the psychologist assigned to evaluate his mental state.

They were in her office and Harm was only here because his CO, the JAG - Admiral A.J. Chegwidden had made it mandatory for him to go to therapy. Granted it was his own damn fault this had started, he didn't have to fire an automatic weapon in court in the first place...

"No. Why would I be angry at my father?"

"Do you blame him for leaving you?"

Harm's voice was soft, almost fragile. "How can I hate him? The Navy needed him. He had no choice."

oxoxoxo

(The Game Of Go)  
Mac stepped up to Harm looking dapper in his dress whites, reached up and pulled his head down towards hers. And then she caught herself. She was inches from his face. She looked up into his eyes and saw the surprise in them. She could imagine those eyes ablaze with desire...

She hesitated for a second, but then pulled away.

oxoxoxo

(Ep 8: Full Engagement)  
Mac and Harm sat around a small fire, trying to keep warm.

"I saw the blood again. I couldn't get that look off my mind. The same look as Eddie." Mac said with a haunted look on her face.

"Who's Eddie?" Harm asked quietly.

"He was the closest thing I had to a friend growing up." she took a deep breath. "There was a huge party the night we graduated high school. We both got wasted. I don't recall the accident, just the cool passenger window against my face. And then we were on the pavement. There was blood everywhere."

"But the thing I remember most is that look in his eyes. He knew he was gonna die, and there was nothing I could do to stop it."

Mac added guiltily, "They say every alcoholic has to hit their own rock bottom. That was mine. Eddie had to die before I finally faced it. In a way, I killed him."

_oxoxoxo_

(Ep 9: Identities)  
Harm entered Mac's bedroom, dressed only in his undershirt and boxers, and found Mac curled up on the bed.

"Harm?" she called, still turned away from him.

"Yeah, Mac?"

"Do you think... you could sleep in here tonight?" she asked shyly.

He realized she needed to feel safe tonight, and he was only too happy to provide it. "Okay." he answered and crawled in beside her.

She put her hand over his, keeping his hand on her midriff. "Thank you. she said and squeezed his hand.

"Anytime." and she smiled because she could feel his smile against her hair. "Goodnight Marine." he said as he pressed a gentle kiss against her temple.

He pulled the blanket over their bodies and held her in his arms until they were both asleep.

And now on JAG - Retold.

oxoxoxo

**Episode 13:  
**Rendezvous (Part 1)

0900 ZULU  
NORTH VIETNAM

An unkind sun beat down through a hazy sky, trying its best to dry out the numerous paddy fields that dotted the countryside. This was Vietnam in between monsoon season - dusty, humid, inhospitable.

A lone water buffalo, slightly too skinny to be considered healthy and too covered in mud to be considered well tended was tied up to a pole, chewing lazily on the weeds around its feet. Mosquitoes the size of Buicks swarmed around its mud coated flank, but the buffalo was too engrossed in its meager feast to even notice the flying pests.

Nearby the fetid pools that were now the breeding ground for the mosquitoes were several bamboo cages, as exposed to the elements as the rice paddies themselves. Most of the cages were empty. Those that weren't, housed men.

Not just any men. Americans.

Not just any Americans. Pilots.

They were bound, their heads bagged in crude gunny sacks that hid their faces, though left their bodies exposed. They were stripped to their waists, their once fair skin now red with sunburn. Even their metal dogtags, once proudly worn, now baked in the heat of the harsh sunlight burned whenever it touched skin.

Mosquitoes swarmed around their bare torsos, spreading malaria to those unlucky enough to catch it. Or perhaps those that met death that way were the lucky ones.

The peasants that stood watch over these cages came calling, opening one to drag out the man inside. The man when he was pulled to his feet towered over the tiny Asian men who were his captors. They prodded him with sticks and moved him towards a hut.

The man sighed in relief as he felt the cool shade of the hut take his burning skin out of the sun. It was welcome relief of but a few seconds as he was soon forced to kneel, and he heard the unmistakable sound of sharpening knives. All at once, the hood over his head was removed to reveal his gaunt unshaven face.

To reveal the face of Harmon Rabb Jr.

Harm tried to speak but his cracked lips and dry mouth made it hard at first. It was then the beating with bamboo rods started and suddenly resistance fled him. He curled up into a ball on the ground, taking the beating.

Mercifully they stopped from time to time to taunt him in an indecipherable gobbly-gook language, and Harm meant it in as offensive a way as that could be meant.

Then the words started to make sense.

_"You're half the man your father was. Or have you forgotten all about him? The man who gave you life. The man who fought for his country. The man you share a name with. The man who you shame with every useless cowardly breath you take."_

Harm let the insults wash over him. They hurt less than the physical beating. But only marginally less.

_"You swore you'd find him. You swore that you'd never stop looking. Isn't that why you joined JAG?"_

One of his captors grabbed his hair and spat in his face. Before the beating resumed.

After what seemed an eternity, they left Harm for dead. He lay curled on the floor, silently mouthing his service number over and over like a mantra until the words themselves lost all meaning.

Machine gun fire ripped through the hut, slaying all those fool enough to not be slumped on the floor. The bodies fell all around him and Harm vaguely felt a strong, comforting and warm hand grasp his arm. He let the hand pull him to his feet and when he turned to his savior, he was shocked.

She was a sight for sore eyes. She was beautiful. She was his lifeline, but Harm knew her as...

"Mac."

oxoxoxo

Harm jerked awake and his hand flailed, sending his digital radio clock crashing to the floor noisily. The LED display and plastic casing cracked rendering the clock well and truly busted.

"Shit." Harm cursed, though he had stronger cuss words reverberating in his head. His hand searched for his wristwatch on the nightstand blindly. Feeling the familiar metal face, he lifted it to look at it.

3:43 A.M.

This was going to be a long day.

oxoxoxo

1250 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Harm stood by the coffee machine with lack of sleep already catching up to him. He poured yet another sachet of sugar into his already over sweetened coffee in the hopes that either it'll keep him awake all day, or put him into a diabetic coma by the end of it. Both seemed almost preferable at this point.

It was in the middle of this mental debate that Lieutenant j.g. Bud Roberts found his superior officer in.

"Good morning sir." Bud greeted the Lt. Cmdr. but quickly noticed just how uncharacteristically rough around the edges the senior JAG attorney looked this morning.

"Sir, are you alright?" Bud asked, concern coloring his voice.

It took a second for Harm to realize that he was no longer alone in the pantry. "Huh?" he turned sleepy eyes to the roundish junior officer and tried to give him a comforting grin. "Yeah. Just... didn't get much sleep last night."

Noticing the dim grin, Bud glanced at the taller man with even more concern, "Nothing serious I hope sir."

"Hmm? I hope not too, Bud." Harm tried again to smile but this one had even less wattage than the last one.

"Is there anything I can do to help sir?"

"Not unless you know how to turn back time..." Harm muttered under his breath.

"What's that sir?"

"Nothing. How's night school by the way?" Harm changed the subject.

Put on the spot, Bud forgot all about his superior's problems for the moment. "I always knew law was hard, sir, but I didn't know just how hard it was."

Harm chuckled as he sipped on his drink once more. The sugar really wasn't working... or was it? He suddenly started to feel a little better.

Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie entered the pantry looking for Bud but was pleasantly surprised to find her JAG partner Harm there too. She greeted them.

"Hey there Bud, Harm."

"Good morning, ma'am."

Harm almost jumped out of his skin the minute he saw her. "Mac!"

She eyed him curiously, "Yeah. Surprise much there, Commander?"

Harm could only stare as Mac rinsed out her mug and made small talk, "So Bud, how was your weekend? Do something fun?"

"Not if you consider studying fun ma'am."

"Not even with Harriet?" Mac raised an eyebrow at his comment.

"She couldn't make it ma'am. They keep her pretty busy up in Norfolk."

It was at this point she realized Harm staring at her as if he'd never seen another human being before. She stared back curiously.

"Uh, something wrong with my face there, flyboy?

That seemed to shake him out of his trance, "Huh? No." he said as he quickly averted his eyes. "Of course not, right Bud? No, right. Time to get back to work. Bud?" he said with unnatural cheeriness as he ushered the junior officer out of the pantry with him.

Harm gave her a small smile before leaving, leaving Mac alone and confused. She glared at her partner's retreating back.

"Well good morning to you too." she muttered under her breath even as she poured herself a cup of the black sludge that was JAG coffee.

oxoxoxo

The sugar in his coffee was starting to make his mind work, as he found himself clearing case files with an almost singleminded clarity he didn't know even existed. For once, he actually got through boring procedural follow-up paperwork without thoughts of homicide, fraticide or suicide crossing his mind.

Glad to clear it from his in-tray, Harm shoved the thick file into his filing cabinet and shut the cabinet door. When his attention was diverted.

His gaze fell upon the picture he had since the day it was taken almost 30 years ago. He was four, almost five in the picture, much too young according to his mom to go onboard the aircraft carrier but she hadn't protested all too strenuously. She loved her husband and her son far too much to keep them apart.

It was the picture of him in the cockpit of his father's F4 Phantom II, with his father looking down at him with an easy smile.

oxoxoxo

SEPTEMBER 14, 1969  
USS HORNET  
SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

Rabb Senior sat down on the bottom bunk in his cabin and pulled his son onto his knee. "Son, I'll be shipping out soon."

"Soon?" Harm looked up at his dad.

"At the end of September." Hammer said ruefully.

"Okay." Harm took it rather well. Then Hammer realized his young son had no concept of time and how the months of the year worked.

"Son, that means I... I won't be at your birthday party." he explained.

And suddenly what his father was saying shattered his entire young world. "What? No!" tears began to form in his small almost five-year old eyes.

"I'm sorry, son. I want to be there, but the country needs me. People need me."

"Why can't they send someone else's daddy? Why must they send you?" Harm tried to hold back the tears but he might as well have been holding back a dam. The tears rolled freely down his cheeks.

"Because I took up an oath, Harm. I made a promise to protect everyone and everything that's important in this world."

Harm wasn't listening. He fought his father's grasp but Hammer kept hold of his son, needing the boy to listen, needing the boy to accept it. "Son, please, I'm sorry."

That stopped the younger Rabb with the tear streaked face. He still refused to look the older man right in the eye. Hammer sighed.

"Son, I know it's hard for you to understand, but... do you know what a promise is?"

Harm shook his head petulantly. "No!"

"Harm?" Hammer said with a firmness that let the little boy know he was being serious.

"... A promise is... a wish you make with someone else and must make come true." Harm said in between sniffles.

"That's right. And do you know what I wish?"

Harm shook his head again, this time sincerely. This time looking up at his father with sad, yet hopeful eyes.

"I wish that when I come back, we'll spend more time together doing whatever you want. Do you wish that too?"

"Yes."

"Then I will do everything I can to make that wish come true."

"Promise?" Harm choked out.

Hammer wiped away the tears, "Promise. And I don't make promises I don't intend to keep." before he pulled his son into a huge hug.

And Lil Hammer hugged back with as much strength his tiny body had.

oxoxoxo

A knock at the door brought Harm back to the present. Harm turned round to see the young eager babyface of Petty Officer 2nd Class Jason Tiner at his door.

"Sir, the Admiral wants to see you in his office ASAP."

Harm nodded, "Thanks Tiner." and turned back to the picture he was holding. He stared at it before setting it down in its usual spot.

Exiting his office he literally bumped into the woman he had dreamed about last night and he had spent the morning acting like a buffoon around. Again he was caught a little by surprise.

Mac looked up at her tall partner and saw the haunted look in his eyes for just a brief second. But all too soon, he had it hidden from her.

"Where you speeding off to, sailor?" she asked good-naturedly, hoping that levity would draw Harm out of his shell.

"The Admiral's office." Harm replied neutrally.

"Uh-oh. This can't be good." she said.

That broke through his steely facade, "What do you mean, this can't be good?"

"Where do you think I'm going?" she asked as she walked with him towards the Admiral's office.

"You too?"

"Me too. What have you gotten us into now, flyboy?"

Harm looked at her with mock hurt, "Hey, I resent that."

"But do you deny it?" she smiled coyly.

Their banter was lifting his mood, "Cute. But I don't see what are you're complaining about. After all, you're the Admiral's favorite."

"Jealous?"

"Should I be?" he lobbed back.

Tiner saw the two senior attorneys smiling at each other and mentally made a note to put in his weekly contribution to the office pool regarding their relationship. "Sir, ma'am, the Admiral said to go right in."

"Thanks Tiner." Mac replied as Harm held the door open for her. After they entered, Tiner was sure that sooner rather than later, Harm and Mac were gonna help him win the office pool and make him seven hundred and eighty five bucks richer.

oxoxoxo

Harm and Mac snapped to before their CO, Admiral A.J. Chegwidden. The two-star Admiral was seated behind his desk and looked up at them over his bifocals.

"At ease. Sit." he said before staring back at the document in his hand. After a few seconds though, he put it down, whipped off his glasses and leaned back in his chair.

"Commander, you're prosecuting the Holst case aren't you?"

"Yes sir."

"How's that going?"

"It's not sir. NCIS hasn't turned up any new clues, Mrs. Holst isn't cooperating and well... the CPO..." Harm trailed off.

"He's fired yet another attorney?"

"Fired or forced out, sir. I think she asked for a TDY as shipboard JAG somewhere."

A.J. took a deep breath before handing over the sheet of paper he had been studying to Harm. "Well, I have good news on your part. I just received word that Mrs. Holst has broken ranks and has applied for protective services while she files for divorce from the CPO."

Harm's face lit up, "She's giving up spousal privilege?"

"Don't look so happy yet, Commander. We aren't forcing her to testify in return for protection. You're going to have to convince her to talk."

"I'll go down to Norfolk as soon as I clear my schedule, sir."

"Consider it cleared." the Admiral said.

"Sir?" Harm looked at his CO with a mixture of confusion and trepidation.

"This case has dragged on for too long. SecNav wants this off our books now, and for once I'm inclined to agree." A.J. then dropped the bombshell. "Until the case is tried, you'll be based in Norfolk."

"But sir, my other cases." Harm began to protest, but the Admiral cut him off.

"I'm sure you can still talk to your clients over the phone. As for any pending trial dates..." A.J. turned to Mac, "Major, you're pinch hitting for the Commander.

Mac was caught off guard. "Sir, my cases..."

"Anything based in Norfolk, hand it over to the Commander. That should halve your workload."

Obviously the Admiral had thought this through because he was right.

"Yes sir." Mac replied.

"Good. Commander assist the Major in handing over, and have Tiner arrange anything you need at Norfolk. Dismissed."

They both rose and chimed, "Yes sir." before they exited the Admiral's office.

Once outside, Mac turned to Harm. "Still think I'm the Admiral's favorite?"

"Hey, he didn't banish you to Norfolk."

"No, he just saddled me with all your court dates. Reading your notes is gonna be torture enough."

"I make good notes."

"Yeah... when they're legible."

He caught the glint in her eye enough to know she wasn't being completely serious. "Well, you can always call if you have any questions."

"Knowing your writing, I'd have better luck calling cryptography."

He wagged a warning finger at her, "Get your shots in when you can, Marine. You'll miss me when I'm not around."

Mac scoffed at the thought.

As the entire office watched their interaction, Tiner knew that the office pool was going to be much much richer by the end of today.

oxoxoxo

0920 ZULU  
NORTH VIETNAM

Bruised and battered, Harm leaned heavily on Mac as she dragged him out of the torture shed. Consciousness was fleeting, he saw the insides of his eyelids as much as he took in his surroundings.

When he finally stirred, he found himself on a PT boat wending its way down river. Harm tried to prop himself up and found that Mac was by his side, pressing a cool cloth against his fevered brow. Her brown eyes were alive with worry, searching his for signs of lucidity.

"Mac..."

"Hey there Hammer. Thought we lost you for a second there."

_Hammer? How did she know his father's call sign? _He was so distracted by that thought he didn't even catch on to the collective term 'we'.

"They haven't made a prison that could hold old hardhead here." a gruff voice spoke. Harm turned in that direction to find a very much younger Tom Boone staring down at him. "Shame about losing the mustache though, Hammer. It really did cover up that ugly mug of yours."

"Hammer?" Harm finally asked.

"He doesn't remember?" Mac asked Boone worriedly.

"Well, sweetheart, you better make him remember quick." Boone replied.

So she did. By kissing him. Hard.

Harm found himself unable to resist, and soon enough found that he didn't want to resist either. He pulled Mac in closer, clinging to her as if she was his lifeline and returned her passion with everything he had. It had been so long since... since he had someone...

"Enjoying yourself there, Rabbit?"

Harm pulled away and found Mac smiling at him. But standing a distance behind her was a young Navy Lieutenant from his past, one who had loved him once, one who shared Mac's face. She looked at him sadly.

"Diane?"

Harm found himself looking between the two women - Diane Schonke and Sarah MacKenzie, both distinct and separate but like mirror halves of each other. One that he had loved and the other whom he was attracted to.

"Diane, how?" Harm asked, unsure what was going on.

Diane looked at her double, giving the Marine a critical once over. Mac stood up and similarly assessed the woman who broke Harm's heart just nine months prior.

"You've already found my replacement so fast. It's nice to know we're all replaceable in your world, Harm." Diane sneered.

"Diane, that's not true."

"Isn't it? Isn't that why you dream about her saving you, loving you, being with you?"

"You're dead."

"And that makes it okay? Or does it make it easier? Can't imagine it does. It must be so hard to keep our names straight in your head. Tell me, when you're with her, do you think of me?"

"Yes." Harm said.

"Liar."

"Diane."

"Who's Diane?" the Navy Lieutenant asked.

Harm blanched, "Mac?"

Diane smirked, "See, even you can't tell the difference between us. You think you can, but you're not sure. There's only one way to be." she said just as she pulled out a handgun and emptied the clip into Mac's chest.

"Mac!"

oxoxoxo

Harm jolted awake and found himself in a strange bed. He panicked and bolted out of bed before remembering he had been stationed to Norfolk for the time being. This was his hotel room.

He sat back down on the bed and held his head. He took a couple of seconds to calm his breathing and his heart, but he could do nothing about his thoughts... his dreams.

Fumbling for his wallet, Harm dug out a business card for Dr. Sandra Chang - his therapist at Bethesda. Harm played with the card, contemplating calling her. He checked his wristwatch in the dark and found the time.

4:31 A.M.

Harm shook his head - _at least he got a little more sleep today_. It was just a nightmare, he was fine. He didn't need therapy, that was just what the Admiral forced him to do. He didn't need help. He played with the card a second longer before ripping it up and tossing it in the trash.

oxoxoxo

1230 ZULU  
NORFOLK NAVAL COMPLEX, VIRGINIA

Harm entered the complex trying to decipher the signboard to get to where he was going. Harm chuckled realizing that for most of his adult life, he had been directed where to go, be it by a CO or by a RIO. He never actually had to learn to navigate except onboard ship, and he had taken to that like a duck to water.

He made his way a little aimlessly searching for his temporarily assigned office space in the admin department when he caught sight of a familiar face. He approached the blonde Ensign and cleared his throat. "Ensign Sims?"

"Commander Rabb!" Harriet Sims beamed when she saw him. "I was just looking for you, sir."

"Well, you've found me. But I'm still looking for room 108."

"Follow me, sir."

"I'm not sure if I should take you away from your duty, Ensign."

Harriet turned around and looked at Harm quizzically, "You didn't know, sir? I've been assigned as your assistant."

This was indeed news to him. However he gave her his best smile. "Well, then my day is starting to look up. It's always nice to see a friendly face, Harriet."

Harriet blushed under the good looking Commander's attention, "Thank you sir, though I'm sure I'm not your first choice as an assistant."

Harm cocked an eyebrow at that statement and she explained. "I mean, I'm not Lieutenant Roberts, sir."

Harm's confusion cleared up and an easy smile formed, "No, but then again, neither am I. So we'll learn to cope together." he said as he followed Harriet's lead towards their office.

"How is he, sir?" Harriet asked about Bud, before catching herself, "I'm sorry, sir, I shouldn't mix business with personal."

"Good rule, but yes, he misses you too. Especially this weekend." Harm said as he followed Harriet around the featureless halls and suddenly he was at his office.

"Room 108 sir."

Harm admired the fact that the space was actually bigger than his usual office. He even had a window view just behind his desk. He let out a low whistle, "Maybe I should make my reassignment permanent, Harriet."

"Oh, sir, I'm sure they'll miss you at JAG. Bud says you're the best attorney there, sir."

"Ha, he better not let Mac hear that."

"Mac, sir?" Harriet asked.

"Major MacKenzie." Harm explained.

Harriet's face lit up, "Oh, is she going to be joining us?"

"Not this time. You'll just have me to babysit, Ensign." Harm said with a smile as he started populating his desk with files, and suddenly he was all business, "You're up to speed on the case?"

"Yes sir. Four months ago, Ensign Rob Felker was found strangled to death on a beach in Willoughby Bay. He was last seen in the company of Mrs. Elizabeth Holst, the wife of Chief Petty Officer Holst who was later arrested and charged with..."

"Yeah, that's enough, Harriet." Harm stemmed her motormouth recap, satisfied that she was indeed up on the case. "Now on the night of the murder, Ensign Felker and Mrs. Holst were seen... getting friendly at a popular bar."

"The Port Of Call, sir." Harriet furnished the relevant information, "It's a local wine bar."

"Sounds classy." Harm said knowing it didn't, "Have you been?"

"Oh no sir. It's... well, it's for... uhm..." Harriet couldn't blush brighter even if she tried.

Harm tried not to compound her embarrassment but he needed to know, "For?" he asked.

"For casual hookups, sir." Harriet concluded.

"How casual?" Now he was just being mean.

She didn't catch the wide grin creeping across his face, "Let's just say, if you went in alone sir, you wouldn't leave alone."

"Sounds like a fun place to be." Harm nodded before turning to the pretty blonde, "What are you doing tonight, Harriet?

oxoxoxo

0200 ZULU  
PORT OF CALL BAR  
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA

The cheesily named bar sported equally tacky decor, so tacky that it must have been by design. The patrons however didn't seem to mind it, after a while, cheap alcohol made anything look better.

Harm sat in the corner booth hoping to remain inconspicuous. He was out of uniform lowering his profile. However that didn't mean that the women of the bar hadn't clocked him the minute he entered. Fortunately, most of the women were insecure enough to not chat him up - being shot down would do nothing for their self esteem.

The day hadn't gone well. For some reason, Liz Holst refused to return any of Harm's calls and any effort on Harm's part to glean her whereabouts was handily rebuffed by protective services. Harm sighed, how could he convince the woman to testify against her husband if he couldn't even convince her to take his calls.

Harm looked up from his drink, a mild, pleasant and obviously cheap house wine and noticed his 'date' for the evening. He eyed her little black dress appreciatively. Out of her uniform, Harriet was slimmer than he anticipated, and her choice of heels - three inches of 'what were you thinking?' made her legs seem to stretch on for miles.

"Nice dress, Harriet." he said with a bright smile.

She colored brightly at his compliment, "Thank you sir." and she took a seat next to him.

Harm leaned in and whispered, "I know we're on a case, but for tonight, call me Harm." At her questioning gaze, he explained, "It'll help us blend in."

Understanding dawned, "Yes sir, I mean, Harm."

Harm eyed the landscape, taking in the women who seemed half as desperate as the men, but were on the wrong side of hard up just the same. "So Felker was in here before Liz Holst arrived, right?"

"Yes sir... Harm. He arrived around 2230 with the Chief Petty Officer's wife arriving about 15 minutes later."

"And they were here until..."

"No one knows exactly when they left, but they think it was just after last call. They are sure they did leave together though, the Ensign and Mrs. Holst weren't being exactly discreet."

"And nobody thought to remind Felker about her marital status?" Harm asked, a little curious.

"Well s... Harm, Ensign Felker knew more than anyone what he was playing with."

"And he paid for it with his life."

Before Harriet could respond, a woman came up to their table, made brave by Harriet's presence. Harm sitting there alone was intimidating and unattainable. But seeing his 'date' in Harriet, suddenly any halfway decent looking woman in the bar thought they were an upgrade on the pretty blonde, and sensed that maybe Harm wasn't as unattainable as they first believed. Harriet set the bar low.

The woman who approached was pretty enough in her own way, though truth be told she wasn't his type. Perhaps underneath all the make-up she could rival Harriet's fresh faced beauty, but it was hard to imagine how underneath all that warpaint.

Harriet turned to the woman with jet black locks. She knew her and knew of her - the woman didn't tend to be shy about what she wanted and she obviously wanted a piece of the tall Lt. Cmdr. from JAG. Not that Harriet could blame her.

"Hey there Harriet. Fancy meeting you here." she said without even a glance at the blonde Ensign. After all, there was something more interesting to look at, even if she didn't know his name... yet. She made her play for Harm immediately, offering a handshake. "Jennie Marquette."

"Harm." he shook Jennie's hand firmly.

"You must be Harriet's sailor. I've heard so much about you." Jennie said, positioning herself none too subtly between them, effectively blocking Harriet out.

Before Harriet could refute it, Harm played along, "Met her onboard the Seahawk." he said with his flyboy grin, instantly winning over the raven-haired bimbo.

Jennie proved to be a veritable fount of information as she spilled, dished and downright gossiped about anyone who walked in the door. A couple of glasses of wine, a couple of flirtatious looks and jokes and Harm had her eating out of the palm of his hand. He didn't notice that Harriet, feeling a little bit of a third wheel felt more than a little upset. She knew what Harm was doing, understood it, might have even admired it, but it still didn't mean being ignored didn't hurt her feelings just the same.

Jennie proved helpful by providing a timeline of the night in question, fresh in her mind even four months later. Harm worried though if Ensign Jennie Marquette would be useable as a witness herself. Undoubtedly her mere presence here in this bar already lowered her credibility as a witness.

"So you didn't happen to know if CPO Holst saw his wife with Felker?"

"He wasn't in here that night... but his buddies were. I'm sure one of them blabbed."

"His buddies?"

And Harm got their names, building a witness list. If he couldn't convince Mrs. Holst to testify, then maybe he wouldn't need to.

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**


	27. Ep 13: Rendezvous (Part 2)

**AN:** I'm still in between houses (not literally - that would be weird) but I hope to resolve my living condition (and get back to writing JAG stories more regularly) by the end of the month.

So I guess in the meantime, you'll have to put up with my slow update cycle. Know that as fast as you guys are wishing I could update, I wish I could write. I could post everyday if you just let me put up my rough notes. You'll get quality excerpts like:

- Scene with Mac and Admiral.  
- Scene with M & H at gym working out.  
- Scene with H&M in her hotel room. M reveals her past in greater detail.  
- Scene after trial is over.

How can you say no to that everyday? :D Anyway, this is part 2 (of 3).

p/s: Yes, those are the notes I made for this episode when I first planned it out about 3 months ago.

* * *

**Episode 14:  
Rendezvous (Part 2)**

1400 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

It had been just over a week since Harm had been reassigned to Norfolk and Mac was making good headway on all the cases. As much as she complained, Harm's notes had improved - only one word in four was indecipherable. Still, years of ichnology - the study of trace fossils such as dinosaur footprints - had made her mind a deft puzzle solver so she was able to decode Harm's squiggles and whorls easily.

Even without him being here, using his notes made her feel like she was still being teamed up with him, and them teamed up were unbeatable - in the space of four days she had another two case wins, a growing reputation and as a result a rapidly growing workload.

Of course she wasn't the only one who noticed her accomplishments. The JAG - Admiral A.J. Chegwidden had long been keeping track of her time in his office, and while it was easy to dismiss her success due to her partnership with Harm, it was also unkind. A.J. noted that ever since Sarah MacKenzie joined his team, Harmon Rabb Jr. had become more focussed and serious in his approach to case work. Granted he still had his reckless streaks, but they were in most part mild compared to some of the adventures he had before this year.

And that was discounting the fact that the Marine Major was an incredible attorney in her own right - after all, she was the one (and remained the only one) who had bested Harm in court. Of course, her growing reputation was one of the reasons why she was standing before him now. Unfortunately, her gender was the other reason.

Mac stared at her CO and wondered why he was making this request of her. She spoke up.

"Forgive me, sir, but don't you consider this a ploy by Chief Holst to delay the trial?"

"Whatever his reasons, he has a list of three military lawyers, all women." A.J. replied.

Mac scowled. "That's not surprising. Wife batterers like to hide behind the skirts of female attorneys." she said but managed to hold her disdain in check. "Sir, you know how heavy my caseload is here. If I have to commute to Norfolk..."

"What can I say, Major? You're on top of a very short list." the Admiral said as he walked back to his desk.

"With all due respect, sir, should we be indulging this man?"

A.J. stopped short and turned around. He glared at his subordinate, subtly reminding her of their respective ranks. "Seeing as this client is beneath you, perhaps you'd like to tell me what cases you'd like to be assigned instead, Major?"

"Sir, I didn't mean..."

"I don't care what you mean, Major. The way I see it, if I assign the best attorney I currently have, who just so happens to be female, then perhaps the Chief will have no more excuses to delay this trial further. So excuse me for thinking so highly of you."

Mac stiffened up. "I'm sorry sir." she said sincerely.

"I don't want your apologies, Major, so I don't expect them. I want you to excel here, but if I'm barking up the wrong tree, let me know and I'll find someone who'll actually step up when she's needed."

He didn't raise his voice, he didn't need to, but his words felt like huge body blows just the same. "Yes sir." Mac replied, severely admonished.

A.J. turned his back to her. _Why were the best ones also the ones who gave the most trouble?_ "Take Mr. Roberts. You're gonna have to play catch up." he said brusquely.

"Yes, sir." Mac accepted her orders.

oxoxoxo

0930 ZULU  
NORTH VIETNAM

Diane Schonke stood there with the still warm gun in her hand as Harm raced to the prone form of his partner.

"Mac!" he shouted as he saw the blood seep through her BDU. And suddenly they weren't in North Vietnam.

oxoxoxo

NORFOLK PIER SEVEN

Mac lay in the body bag, blood staining her chest, blood staining her uniform - but it wasn't Mac. Not in a Navy uniform anyway.

"So Mac dying reminds you of me?" Diane's ghost asked from behind him. "Or does Mac just remind you of me in general?"

"She's different." Harm replied, without turning around.

"How?"

"She's not you."

"Is that all you need to accept she's different?" Diane's ghost whispered against his back. "Is that all you need to tell yourself so you don't feel the same way about her?"

"I don't love her."

"You could learn. You did with me."

"She's not you." he said firmly.

"But she could be."

That startled Harm. "Is that what you want?" he asked the ghost of his one time love.

"I'm dead. It doesn't matter what I want. So I suppose I have to ask, is that what you want?"

"You know what I want."

"Ah, but it's too late for that Harm. It's too late for me."

Harm couldn't take his eyes off Diane's body lying in the body bag before him. She looked so peaceful. Harm reached out to touch her cold skin.

"Wanna know my last thought, Rabbit?"

Harm shook his head, no. He knew. He caressed Diane's cheek and all memories of how warm she had felt under his touch only made how cold her body was even more noticeable.

"It was of you." her ghost confirmed. "I was thinking of our future. I was thinking of how I was going to spend the rest of my life making you happy."

Harm had to close his eyes as tears escaped. They rolled down his face.

"I guess I didn't think the rest of my life was going to be so short."

"Stop it." Harm finally spoke. "Why are you doing this?"

"I just want you to be happy. Are you?"

Harm didn't respond. His silence in a way was answer enough.

"She makes you happy. She makes you forget about me." Diane's ghost pressed on.

"I don't want to forget about you."

"Why not? You should go on with your life. You could be happy again."

"I promised you I'd find your killer." Harm said.

Diane's ghost changed tack, "If you met Mac first, would you have fallen for her?"

"No."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because it's not just physical. I loved you because of everything else."

"But you were attracted to me because of how I looked. Don't bother denying it, Rabbit, you know it's true. So it stands that you find her attractive too."

Harm didn't deny that fact. He couldn't. That the two women looked so much alike was probably why he was indeed drawn to Mac.

"So if you don't love Mac, why don't you just sleep with her and get her out of your system?"

"I can't."

"You slept with Kate."

"Kate was different."

"How? She was your partner. Mac's your partner now."

"I don't want to sleep with Mac."

"Liar."

"I won't sleep with Mac." Harm reasserted.

Diane's ghost stared at Harm, "Are you afraid that if you love her, she'll be taken from you like I was?"

For a third time, Harm's silence spoke volumes. But before he could get an answer, the alarm rang breaking his sleep.

He stared at the darkened ceiling before rolling over to look at the ringing alarm clock on his bedside.

0600. He'd finally made it through the night.

And he felt more exhausted than ever.

oxoxoxo

NEXT DAY  
1500 ZULU  
NORFOLK NAVAL COMPLEX, VIRGINIA

Harm couldn't believe his eyes but he knew she was standing there, because Harriet had already filled him in. Shaking off all his nightmares, he quickly plastered on his best smile and approached her.

"Oh, my goodness. The Admiral sent Sarah MacKenzie."

Mac looked up from the base map in her hands to find Harm standing there smiling as if he had won the lottery. Somehow just the sight of him made her dark mood lift a little.

"Why, are you nervous already?" she said with a slight smile of her own.

"Now why would I be nervous?"

"Well, you know, I have beaten you before."

"Doesn't count. I dropped that case." he reminded her.

"Yeah, keep dreaming, flyboy." she laughed.

Harm stiffened at that. _Dreams. _Memories of his conversations with Diane's ghost returned. He quickly shook it off but his good mood had faded somewhat.

"What's going on anyway, Mac? You don't check in with me, you sent Bud to collect disclosure documents..."

"Everything's there, I hope." she cut in.

"Clearly indexed, although I'm still working on a statement from Mrs. Holst." Harm admitted.

"Oh, she gave a statement." Mac said, surprising Harm. "But not about her husband's whereabouts. Spousal privilege."

Harm wasn't happy. As prosecutor he had to disclose everything. As defense, she didn't. "Silence speaks volumes, Mac." he hinted, "She's scared."

"Yeah, and speaking with you will make her safer how?" Mac shook her head at his blatant fishing expedition. "Don't try your head games on me, Harm. They're not gonna work this time."

"This time?"

"Don't get me started on your dirty tricks the last time we faced each other." Mac reminded him.

"Hey, I'm on the level here. I'll give you whatever I get." Harm said defensively. Seeing her distracted by her map, he asked. "What are you looking for, anyway?"

"The brig."

"Three buildings down to your left." he stated helpfully, and she moved in that direction. "But it's quicker if you cut through Operations." he called out, and she ignored him.

Harm shrugged, he was too tired to fight her anyway, and he needed to save his energy for court. Besides, Sarah MacKenzie was welcome to get as lost as he did the first day. Maybe it'll give him time to work on dear old Mrs. Holst.

oxoxoxo

Dear old Mrs. Holst was neither old nor dear it seemed. Granted she had been around the block a couple of times. And obviously with more than just one rider, so it was hardly surprising that she was rather attractive. Again, not Harm's type, but not many sailors were as choosy as Harm, especially not after months at sea.

Protective services finally allowed Harm and Harriet to see Liz Holst at the safe house. However, Harm soon discovered that just being able to see her didn't automatically turn into cooperation on her part.

"I don't know why I should speak with you, Commander."

"If you help me, Mrs. Holst, I can put him away."

Liz looked at the handsome young Lt. Cmdr. What did he know of the cruelty of men and gods when he looked the way he did?

"If I say anything against him, he'll kill me once he gets off."

"Like he killed Rob?" Harm held her gaze.

Liz clammed up.

"Your husband wasn't home when you got back, was he, Mrs. Holst?"

The conflict on her face told him all he needed to know. All he had to do was get her on the stand.

oxoxoxo

1530 ZULU  
NORFOLK NAVAL COURTHOUSE, VIRGINIA

Harm had one of the witnesses Jennie Marquette had named on the stand. It was none other than one of CPO Holst's buddies - Petty Officer Carlos.

It was evident with one look that Carlos was not leadership material. He lacked a certain drive, a certain discipline and for the most part, the man liked being liked far too much to actually climb to the top.

But that didn't mean Carlos was a total boob. He was just easily contented. He had found his spot on the totem pole and as long as he was on a part sticking above ground, he was glad to stay where he was.

Harm turned to the man on the stand, "Petty Officer Carlos, you saw your friend's wife, Mrs. Holst, in a bar with Ensign Felker the night he was killed, correct?"

Carlos stole a quick glance over at Holst sitting at the defense table before answering. "Yes, sir."

The look didn't go unnoticed by Harm, "How were they acting?" he asked.

"They were drinking pretty good, being loud and playful, you know, having fun."

"So two consenting adults having a good time, nothing more." Harm said.

"Well, maybe a bit more, sir."

"A bit more? Care to explain, Petty Officer?" Harm asked.

"They were... flirting sir."

"Flirting? Nothing wrong with flirting is there?"

"Ensign Felker had his hand inside Mrs. Holst dress sir."

Harm glanced over at the defense table. He expected Holst's death glare... but he didn't expect Mac's cold indifference. She glanced up to lock eyes with him, silently urging him to get to his point.

He turned back to Carlos, "And at some point, Mrs. Holst and Ensign Felker left together in Mrs. Holst's car, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"What time?"

"Right after last call."

"Where did you assume they were going?"

Carlos looked pained but answered anyway, "I didn't have to assume. Their intentions were clear."

"State it for the rest of us who aren't privy to their intentions." Harm pressed.

"Lovers Lane." Carlos admitted.

"Also known as Willoughby Bay, isn't that right, Petty Officer?"

"Yes."

Harm nodded, pausing contemplatively before turning back to Carlos. "Well, why didn't you call your friend Chief Holst, and tell him what was happening?"

"I was afraid of what he might do. He has a temper."

Mac was on her feet in a second, "Objection. Not relevant."

The judge however disagreed. "Overruled." so Harm pressed on.

"Enough of a temper for you to fear for the life of Ensign Felker?"

Carlos shied away from the unadulterated look of hatred shooting from CPO Holst's eyes. "Yes."

Harm glanced once more at the defense table and this time was more surprised to see Mac's demeanor. Outwardly she had on the same neutral mask she normally reserved for court. However her eyes lacked their usual sparkle. They were dull, lifeless.

Dead.

oxoxoxo

2343 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie stood in front of the Judge Advocate General himself - Admiral A.J. Chegwidden, ready to plead for clemency on her part. She had never wanted the case of Chief Petty Officer Fred Holst, and she so badly wanted to hand it back, professional pride and censure be damned.

To Mac, the worst part of this case was being assigned to defend the wife-beating bastard. CPO Holst was an abuser and Mac knew the type all too well.

Fred Holst had three previous attorneys and as per his request each time, three previous female attorneys. She would be number four and as far as the courts were concerned, she was his last hope.

Well, she didn't want to be his last hope, because she wanted Holst to hang for his crime. Because she had no doubt in her mind that the son-of-a-bitch was guilty.

She recalled earlier this morning in court, where on top of motive and opportunity, a piece of wire - the garrote used to strangle Ensign Felker - had been forensically proven to have been cut by CPO Holst's tools in his workshop. That fact itself proved pre-meditation - that Holst had taken the time to provide himself with the murder weapon before confronting the Ensign.

As CPO Holst was led from the courthouse back into custody, he had claimed she wasn't trying hard enough. And as much as it pained her to admit it, he had a point.

"Maybe he's right, sir. I should be fighting harder."

"Then fight harder." the Admiral replied plainly.

Mac's CO was not going to make it easier for her. Traveling from Norfolk back to JAG HQ in Falls Church had not given her perspective. It had given her distance, 192 miles of distance, but no fresh insight on her case. The three sleepless nights before today spent poring over the case files had not given her any cause to believe in her client's innocence. Standing in the JAG's office right now, she remained as convinced of his guilt as she had been when she received the assignment.

"Sir, perhaps I should remove myself from the case."

"Sorry Major, I won't allow a mistrial because my officer doesn't like the man she's defending." Chegwidden stood up and came around his desk.

"Respectfully sir, we're not far along. We could start over."

"Not an option, Major."

"Admiral, the man is a monster and probably guilty. Military Law entitles him to the best defense available."

"I thought I was giving it to him."

"Sir... he... It just hits a little too close to home." Mac admitted softly, trying not to look at her CO.

"I'm aware of your family history Major."

She stared at him in shock. "You are?" Shock was quickly replaced by a building temper, "Then you gave me this case on purpose, didn't you sir?"

"Irrelevant." A.J. walked back behind his desk, subconsciously eager to put distance between himself and the Marine.

"I disagree, Admiral." she protested.

"Major." he said with a clear warning in his tone, "If you can't check your emotions at the door, then you should find another line of work."

Mac had no response. He had issued an ultimatum and it was left to her to not let her feelings show. She was deeply conflicted. She wanted to throw her client to the wolves so this case could end and she could move on. But if she didn't at least stage a decent defense, she knew that it opened a door for an appeal, in the process destroying her credibility and possibly her career because her lack of effort would no doubt come to light. And she would not give up the Marines for a man like Fred Holst.

She needed Harm's advice and support, but he was the prosecution and any such overtures would send the wrong message. That didn't change the fact that she really needed him right now.

oxoxoxo

NEXT DAY  
1254 ZULU  
NORFOLK NAVAL COURTHOUSE, VIRGINIA

Mac walked in the courthouse and saw Harm playing with his cover obviously waiting for someone. She was surprised when she found out he was actually waiting for her.

"Hey, what's up?" Mac asked even as she mentally prepared her game face, to face him in court.

"I wanted to see how you were doing." he replied, surprising Mac into a shy sigh even as her lips curled into a smile. He had been worried about her since he last saw her in court. She had disappeared the second yesterday was over so he hadn't had the chance to talk with her.

Her mind though didn't buy his concern, instead she dismissed this as just another one of his infamous mind games.

"I bet." Mac said as she continued walking past, determined to not let him get to her.

He followed closely, not letting her get away so easily, "Seriously. I heard you drove back and talked to the Admiral yesterday."

That slowed her down. She looked up at his face and saw the worry in his eyes. "Who told you that?" she asked, her tone softening, touched by the fact that his concern was real and for her.

"Harriet. Bud told her."

"Remind me to castigate him after lunch." she brushed off the hypnotic effect of his gaze and resumed walking with renewed purpose. She came to the door of their courtroom.

"So? Something wrong?" Harm stood before the door, making sure they discussed this before they entered fresh battle.

"Well nothing you can fix unfortunately." she said with a slight cock of her head.

"Try me."

She looked at him, really looked at him and realized that she had never seen that look on his face before. It was concern, pure unadulterated concern. He was not looking at her like she was his friend Mac, or a Marine Major or even as the woman Sarah MacKenzie. She caught him looking at her like she was the only person in the world and she felt her heart do a flip.

"You really waited out here to check on me?" she asked, her voice betraying just how deeply touched she was by his worry for her.

"Is that so hard to believe?" he asked back.

Mac felt her heart do another weird flip, skipping a beat at his response. No, she believed him, but she didn't have time for this. She needed to concentrate on her case...

"I better get inside. Round two starts in three and a half minutes." she said with a careful smile as she entered the courtroom once more.

He was glad she was okay and with a wry grin of his own, followed her in. "Ding ding."

oxoxoxo

Harm had his star witness on the stand, "Mrs. Holst, did you intend to sleep with Ensign Felker that night when you left the bar?"

Liz felt her husband's fierce stare and her resolve wilted. She didn't want to be here, but... but the Commander had promised. "I don't know." she said.

Harm quickly moved to block her from the CPO's line of sight. He softened his tone.

"You let him drive you to a section of the base along the beach where sexual interludes presumably take place."

"Yes. I guess I did." Liz Holst said quietly.

"Why?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"To get back at my husband." she sighed defeatedly.

"The defendant?" Harm clarified.

"Yes." she confirmed.

"For beating you?"

Mac threw out an "Objection. Leading."

The judge sided with Mac this time, "Sustained."

Harm rephrased the question. "Mrs. Holst, why did you want to get back at your husband?"

"For beating me, among other things."

"Like what?"

"At the annual picnic, he called me a whore in front of everybody. I guess I decided if he was gonna call me a whore, then I might as well act like one."

"Why didn't you just leave him?"

"I was afraid of him."

"But not afraid enough to let him catch you with another man?" Harm asked, taking one of Mac's questions from her. The glare he got from her showed him he had indeed done so.

"I wasn't... thinking that far." Liz admitted.

Harm nodded and considered his next question, "What happened after you arrived at the beach?"

"We started kissing and I knew I couldn't go through with it."

"It?"

"Cheat on Freddy."

"What did you do then?"

"I thought maybe we could go for a swim. You know, cool off. And maybe..." Liz cut herself off.

"Maybe?" Harm prompted.

"Maybe I wanted to know what it felt like to be pursued by a man again. To feel desired." Mrs. Holst said, shame making her voice tremble, "But Rob never came. When I came back, I found him dead."

Harm let Liz have her moment of weakness on the stand, letting the jury see what the monstrous CPO Holst had done to his wife - beyond just the physical abuse. "What did you do then?" Harm finally asked gently.

"I panicked. I thought maybe the killer might still be there, so I jumped in my car and I drove home."

"Your husband told police he was sleeping at home at the time of the murder. When you got home, was he there?"

Liz took a steadying breath, "No."

"When did Chief Holst arrive home?"

"Not till the next morning."

"Did he tell you why he was out?"

She took a deep breath, "He said, 'Look what you've made me do.'"

"What did he do, Mrs. Holst?"

"I don't know. But there was blood on his shirt."

oxoxoxo

Harm checked in on Mrs. Holst after her explosive testimony had caused CPO Holst to blow a gasket and get himself thrown out of court.

The poor woman had been shaken up but at the same time, she had also walked out of the courtroom steadier than when she had entered. As if she had been freed of a heavy burden for the first time in a long time.

"Here, let me get that." Harm reached for the boxes she was carrying into the safe house but Liz ducked out of his path.

"Oh, no, that's okay. It's light, just some personal belongings." Liz said as she set the box down inside the doorway.

Harm wanted to talk with the woman privately. He turned to his assistant, Harriet Sims and told her, "Could you wait in the car a moment, Ensign?"

"Yes, sir." Harriet responded, knowing the difference between a request and an order, and that had not been a request. She made her way towards the JAG fleet car but found something interesting lying on the ground behind Mrs. Holst's sedan.

It was a folder full of letters. Love letters!

Harm spoke with Liz, "You did the right thing, Mrs. Holst. It'll be better this way."

"I know." she responded with newfound resolve. Harm handed her his card.

"Well, call me, if I can do anything for you."

She took the card, and looked at it. "Thanks." she said.

He was halfway down the stairs when Liz called out to him. "Commander." he turned back to look at her and she smiled at him. "Thank you for... for convincing me to testify."

Harm smiled back widely. "You're welcome."

His smile however dimmed when he finally reached his car and spoke with Harriet. She showed him the letters she had found.

"You should see this, sir."

"What is it?" he asked.

"Love letters to Mrs. Holst."

"They're not from her husband are they?" Harm looked at Harriet, knowing full well they weren't though still clinging to the hope he was wrong.

She took away that hope. "No sir. They're from Petty Officer Carlos."

oxoxoxo

0004 ZULU  
NORFOLK NAVAL COMPLEX, VIRGINIA

Mac's mood was dark. Her second day in court was a worse disaster than the first. First Liz Holst had testified to her client lying on his police statement, before all but admitting to her that he had committed murder.

While that would have gotten her mad under normal circumstances, this situation was far from normal. Her mood was dark not because she was losing a case. Her mood was dark because she would gladly love to lose this case.

And that bothered her that she could think that way. And it bothered her that it bothered her to think that way. She owed her client nothing, he was scum, he was scum way before he met her and her defending him didn't make him any less of one.

And guilty of this crime or not, it didn't change the fact that he deserved to die.

He was a drunk, a louse, a wife-beater and by all accounts, a murderer. CPO Fred Holst was everything she hated in a man and he was everything she despised in her father. He needed to pay for his crimes, even if it meant she'd have to string him up herself.

Harm entered the gym and his eyes instantly fixed on Mac. Not only was she the most beautiful thing in the room, he had come to develop a sixth sense when it came to her. Logically, he knew sometimes it might have been the smell of her perfume that alerted him to her presence, other times just catching sight of her silhouette out of the corner of his eye drew his attention.

But there were times where logic flew out the window, like when he could sense her standing anywhere in the room, even if he couldn't see her immediately. Maybe it was a sign of how tight a unit they had become. Fighter pilots of a squadron developed a shared sixth sense, it could be a tightening of one's gut or the feather light ripple on the hairs on the back of the neck, but you knew if the person on your six was friend or foe, and you knew instinctively where your wingman was, even if you couldn't see him.

And in this case, he always knew where she was in a room. He had come to be able to pick her out of a crowd with just a cursory glance. His eyes always zeroed in on her and once he saw her, his gut calmed, his muscles relaxed and his lips curled into a smile.

She was working the punching bag hard, her gloved hands smacking convincingly against the leather. There were several other men in the gym and he noted that they were keeping an eye on her, afraid to approach yet also eager to.

Her demeanor though kept them at bay. She wasn't scowling, but her body language told everyone to keep their distance because she was not in the mood for anything. Harm though didn't read the signals.

"Looking good, Major. Someone taught you well."

She didn't even look up, "You can thank my father. He said it'll come in handy since I was being raised around sailors." And she landed a vicious combo.

"Whoa. Well, I'll remember that." Harm smiled as he started working the same bag she was, before continuing, "You know what else would come in handy? When Lieutenant Sims and I were helping Mrs. Holst move, we came across some letters address to Mrs. Holst from Petty Officer Carlos."

"Yeah, well it's comforting to know that Holst's friends can write."

"Yeah, and rather explicitly too. They were some rather steamy love letters."

Mac stopped punching, "Say again?"

"Chief Holst's best friend is in love with his wife."

Mac couldn't believe the nerve of Harm to walk in and drop this 'discovery' on her. Again. Like he had done on a previous case. Like he continually did with her. How his 'concern' was really just a way to get into her head and play havoc with it. How he was proving that her client was innocent when she knew he was guilty as sin!

"And Petty Officer Carlos declared his love in these letters that you and Sims just so happened to find?" she asked not bothering to mask her vitriol.

"In ways that would make you blush when you read them." he smiled and when he saw her unamused glare, tried to lighten her mood. "Well, maybe not you." he joked.

She was not amused. "Ha, right." she said humorlessly, and let fly another punch against the bag, "You know you really are something."

She started unleashing holy terror on the punching bag, landing a barrage of powerful if uncontrolled kicks, swings and punches.

"Hey, I was just teasing you know? Humor." Harm said, surprised that she was taking it so poorly.

"Yeah, you just want me to believe Petty Officer Carlos is involved in Ensign Felker's murder." Mac was pissed and she knew why she was.

He was trying to play her for a fool, trying to give her 'hope' that her client may not be guilty, no doubt letting her do the dirty work of introducing evidence that would open the door for him to submit incontrovertible proof that would damn her client. She'd fallen for that once, she wasn't falling for it again.

Of course, there was the alternative, which was worse! Harm had actually found evidence of Holst's innocence. What was Harm doing letting a damn murderer walk? It didn't matter if Holst didn't kill Felker. It would only be a matter of time before Holst actually killed someone for real, probably his wife, and he had to be stopped before that happened.

Harm felt his own blood begin to boil. As prosecution he had to share with her his findings, she knew that so why was she taking it out on him? "Read the letters. Or don't read them. I'm obligated to disclose what I discover."

"Do I look like I just fell off the turnip truck?"

"Excuse me?" Harm was shocked. Where did that come from?

"Huh? Do I?" Mac exclaimed to no one in particular as her punches landed sloppily, her emotions already getting the better of her. Harm tried to push the bag away to get her to talk to him.

"Mac, what's going on? What's the problem?"

Her booted foot landed crisply on the bag making the chain holding it to the ceiling rattle, "Setting me up, that's the problem."

"Setting you up?"

"Leading me down this garden path with this letter stuff..."

"I didn't set you up..." Harm protested his innocence.

She wasn't listening, "And then sandbagging me in court! The same way you did the last time we were on opposing teams." she pointed her glove at him accusatorially.

"I didn't sandbag you in court, Mac."

"Oh really? What do you call it?"

Two could play that game. Harm felt his anger at her take over and he baited her, "I pointed you in a certain direction and your emotions took care of the rest. Just like now."

He regretted saying it the minute he saw her face crumble and her voice, once shouting dropped to a mere whisper. "What do you know about my emotions?"

"Look, all I'm..." Harm tried to backtrack his previous statement as she started walking away.

"Just back off Harm. Back off!" she punched a speed bag hard to emphasize her point.

He watched her walk away. Harm hadn't realized after all this time he had hurt her so badly the last time they had faced each other in court. They were friends, he would never hurt her if he had known...

And that was the problem - he didn't know her, not really no matter how much he fooled himself into thinking he did. She was Sarah MacKenzie, not Diane Schonke. She may look like the woman in his memory... in his dreams, but she sure as hell wasn't the same woman walking away now. The same woman he had hurt.

He slammed a vicious backhand against the punching bag.

oxoxoxo

Mac lay on the bench press and lifted the barbell, 30 lbs weights on either end helping her burn through her anger. When she sensed him standing over her.

"Mac." his voice was tender, almost soft. There was a hint of remorse in it but Mac was not in the mood for the easy way he played with her emotions.

She completed her reps, ignoring him as best she could, hoping that he would leave. No such luck. She sat up, eyes ablaze and ready to go.

"Can we talk?" he asked trying to disarm her battle mode.

She wasn't in the mood for his bullshit. She glared at him a second longer before turning to add more weights to her workout.

At her continued silence, Harm dove in, "Okay, how about I talk?"

She selected a 10 lbs plate and saw him add the same to the other side of the barbell. At her continued silence he decided it gave him carte blanche to fill it with his noise.

"I think your feelings about Holst are interfering with your ability to defend him. You wanna know why I think that?"

She ignored him, bench pressing 80 lbs once, then twice. He continued, "From what little you told me about yourself, I think Holst reminds you of your father."

Trying to shut out his words, she raised the 80 lbs again, but the weight pressed down hard, her pretty face grimacing in pain - partly from effort and partly from the wounds his words were opening. He grabbed hold of the bar, stopping it from crushing her.

She didn't need him, she didn't want to need him. She could do this on her own. "I got it. I got it!" she shouted at him, prompting him to let go.

"I think Holst pushes all the daddy buttons and it's getting in the way."

She winced again and this time there was no doubt where her pain was coming from. He was hitting her at her weakest, using what she had told him in confidence to break the scabs of her scarred soul, reopening wounds that she had fought so hard to keep buried. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memories and trying to stop herself from crying.

He grabbed the barbell once more and set it on the collars, releasing her from her work out. She sat up, keeping her back towards him. He begged her.

"Put it to bed, Mac. Not because of Holst, I couldn't give a damn about Holst. But I do give a damn about you."

His pleas fell on deaf ears. She walked away again and Harm wondered if he had finally pushed too far.

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**


	28. Ep 13: Rendezvous (Part 3)

**AN:** This is the final part of the episode. As always I hope you enjoy it. :)

* * *

**Episode 14:  
Rendezvous (Part 3)**

0152 ZULU  
NORFOLK NAVAL COMPLEX, VIRGINIA

Lt. j.g. Bud Roberts was feeling particularly proud of himself tonight as he raced back towards his temporary office. He had been out on a date with Ensign Harriet Sims at the infamous Lovers Lane - but that was hardly important. No, the moment of genius happened while they were gazing at the stars, he had noticed the geosynchronous arc of a 'shooting star'.

A star that he had seen track a similar arc the night before. It could only be in reality a satellite, orbiting the base, capturing the murder site and probably the murder time.

Naturally his first thought was to call the number that he had only seen Lt. Cmdr. Rabb use before. But since Commander Rabb was the prosecution while Bud was helping Major MacKenzie on the defense, he had debated about betraying the Commander's trust by phoning his contact.

It had taken him ten minutes to decide that like Commander Rabb, finding the truth, no matter what lines you crossed was justified. Bud picked up the phone.

"Who is this?" came the sharp, annoyed voice of the man from the State Department.

"Hello, Mr. Webb? This is Lieutenant J-G Bud Roberts of JAG."

CLICK.

Clayton Webb had just hung up on him before he could even make his request. Bud pressed redial. He could hear it ring four times before Webb picked up again. Before waiting for the inevitable raft of insults, Bud rushed in with his request.

"Mr. Webb, this is for Commander Rabb. He needs to find a satellite orbiting above Norfolk Naval Base."

When Webb didn't hang up immediately, Bud rediscovered breathing. He had dropped Commander Rabb's name and winced at the lie. A white lie, but a lie just the same. He hoped the Commander didn't find out.

"And what is Rabb going to offer me in return?" came the voice of the Special Assistant to the Undersecretary of State.

"What would you like sir?" Bud asked, not sure exactly how the Commander and Mr. Webb dealt with each other.

"Are you sure this is for Rabb?"

"Yes sir. He needs it for an important case." Bud grimaced again as he lied... again. The irony of searching for the truth while lying through his teeth was not lost on him.

"... Coordinates?"

"Excuse me sir?"

There was an impatient sigh on the other end, "Coordinates of the satellite."

"Uhm... uh..." Bud stammered shuffling paper as he tried to look for something to base his calculations on.

"At least tell me the time it orbits past Norfolk."

"Oh, uh... zero-six-thirty Zulu. O-one-thirty, sir. A.M, sir. 14th of March, sir."

"That's over four months ago!"

"Yes sir."

"Rabb must be really desperate to call me."

Bud paled, realizing the consequences of his actions for the first time. Bud remembered what Clayton Webb was like. At best, Webb tolerated their presence. At worse, Webb would sell them all up the river to complete his mission. He had little concern for the well being of the people in his operations.

"Hope whatever you're looking for is worth it." Webb said.

CLICK.

It was too late to turn back now. Bud had sold out the Commander on a hunch. He hoped that his hunch turned out right, or Bud was sure he would never be able to face the Commander again.

oxoxoxo

0215 ZULU  
MAC'S HOTEL ROOM  
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA

Dressed in a pink hotel robe, Mac sat in front of the dressing table mirror and brushed the stray locks of her wet hair away from her face. When she heard the tentative yet rapid knocks on her door.

She knew who it was, she could feel him standing out there, knowing that he'd probably come to apologize. The only thing she was unsure of was whether she could forgive him for hurting her. She threw open the door and he stood there, his eyes full of remorse, even if the words weren't forthcoming.

"Can I come in?"

She wanted to say no, but she had to prove to herself that he had no hold on her heart. That she wasn't running away from another man in her life. "Sure."

He entered but stood near the door, not daring to violate her space any more than the few inches he took up. "I owe you an apology. I said some things that... well, I don't know enough about you and your father to make the assumptions I made. I'm sorry."

She sighed. He had apologized, he was sorry and he sounded so damn sincere about it. Mac tried to keep her aloofness, tried not to react to his words but she couldn't. Why couldn't she, she wondered. Why did Harm's words and opinions matter so much?

She couldn't look at him, couldn't bear to see him pity her for her sob story. And that was what it was to her, a sad little tale that changed how people perceived her. No longer was she the strong capable Marine who kicked ass but the pitiful little fragile girl too scared of her daddy. She was not a victim and she was determined to not let Harm or anyone treat her as one.

"Payday was the worst. He'd go to the NCO club with his buddies. Most of the time they'd have to drive him home because he was too drunk to drive himself."

"Mac, you don't have to..."

"Yes I do. My mother would help him in, and... he'll flop on the couch and yell for me to take off his shoes. He reeked of cigarettes and stale beer. And sometimes, something worse."

Harm felt like a heel. He had hurt her even more by not knowing how fragile she was. She was a Marine, but only on the outside. Inside she carried with her this pain. His eyes glazed over, not with pity for the little girl in her story, but with guilt for the pain he had inflicted on the woman standing in front of him.

Mac sat on the bed as her mind was instantly teleported to her past, "And then the yelling would start. And the slapping. And the sobbing. His. I don't know which was worse - his hitting or his sobbing that he was sorry. She left him and me with him. And it wasn't much later that I started drinking just to get away."

"Did it help?"

"Did what help?" Mac asked, daring to look at him for the briefest of seconds before her eyes skittered away from his.

"Did it help you get away?"

She sighed, her eyes locking on to a spot on the floor. "No. It just made me more like the worst parts of both my parents. I drank to run away, and I ran away to drink."

"Until you stopped." he said, matter-of-factly.

"I stopped drinking."

"You stopped running away too."

She looked up at him again and this time held his gaze. "I'm not sure about that part."

Harm inched closer, "Tell me what you see when you look at your life."

Hesitantly, Mac replied, "... I see, work. A career. A uniform."

"Nothing else?"

"What else is there?"

Harm heard the thin quality of her voice. It wasn't a whine, it was Sarah MacKenzie seeking assurances that she had more to offer to someone... anyone in this world. He wanted to show her how much she had to offer him, but was scared to overstep. He didn't want to be her crutch, not when she was strong enough to stand on her own two feet.

But he couldn't leave her in that state either. He chose his topic carefully. He chose his words with even more care.

"Mac, as bad as your father got, and as despicable as he was, he didn't murder your mother."

Mac felt crushed that he didn't step to her and take her in his arms. She needed comfort. Even if it was only right now. Even if it wasn't forever. Even if it wasn't for real.

"I get what you're saying, Harm. I get it. But I don't think I can separate Holst from what my father did."

"There's an old saying - once you recognize the enemy, you can defeat it."

"What is the enemy, Harm? My father? My childhood? Me?"

"Not you. But whether it's your father or your childhood only you can answer that." He took another step closer, "I wish you could see what I see when I look at you."

She stared up at him. She wanted to know what he saw when he looked at her that way. Her eyes told him so. For whatever reason, he ignored her silent plea, instead he held out the envelope he had come to deliver.

"Here are the letters from Petty Officer Carlos to Mrs. Holst."

Her big brown eyes stared up at him even as she took the offered envelope. He could almost imagine them asking him to make her forget her pain, to take her away from here. He wanted to. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her until she didn't need him anymore. To hold her until she was the strong, wonderful woman he had come to know and desire once more.

It was too tempting. She looked like Diane, that's what he told himself. And it was unfair to her if he felt that way about her only because of her looks. Because she was not Diane. She never would be.

"I should go." Harm said.

Her eyes implored him to stay, but she knew she couldn't ask him to, "I guess so."

He opened the door to let himself out. But before he left, he turned back.

"Mac?"

"Yes?

"You're..." his mind searched for the words, not daring to reveal too much yet needing to tell her how he felt.

"What?" she asked, her voice catching in her throat.

"You're... the best lawyer I've ever faced."

He hated the fact that that was the best he could say without overstepping the boundaries. Without making it awkward between them. Without taking her in his arms and making the biggest mistake of their careers.

"Good night, Marine."

He pulled the door shut behind him before she could respond.

oxoxoxo

Harm heard the knock on his door and opened it. Mac stood there in a pink robe, her hair still slick from the shower.

"Aren't you gonna let me in, sailor?"

Suddenly mute, he stepped aside. She entered and surveyed his room.

"Aren't you gonna offer to take my coat?"

She wasn't wearing a coat, only a robe, but he reached out anyway and undid the robe tie. The fabric separated to reveal naked flesh underneath. Harm looked at her in surprise, and she leaned in.

"Aren't you gonna offer me a drink?" she asked sultrily.

Her alcoholism made him find his voice. "Mac..."

"Is that who you think I am?"

_Shit._ Harm cursed mentally.

Diane's ghost stepped back with a smile. "All you have to do is go to her and she'll fall into bed with you."

"Yeah, right."

"She almost kissed you down in Colombia. Remember?"

He did. And he wanted her to kiss him too.

"And she let you sleep in her bed."

"That was different. She was just attacked in her own home. She needed someone to watch her back." Harm explained.

"And if she were any other woman, would you have agreed?"

Harm knew he wouldn't have. He might have slept on the floor, or found someone else to stay with her.

"The thing is Rabbit, you want her. So why don't you get her?"

Harm rubbed his head ruefully, "That car must have done more damage than I thought." he said, thinking about his unfortunate run in with a car that landed him in a hospital last month.

"If you want a guarantee she'll never leave, you know even she has no control over that." Diane said.

Harm turned towards her, confusion deeply etched on his face. "What do you mean?"

"We all left you. I died. Your father went missing in Vietnam..."

"What's my father got to do with any of this?" Harm said with a bit more snap in his voice, revealing cold rage.

"Everything Harm. Your flying, your search for him when you were sixteen, your reason for joining JAG."

"I joined JAG to help people."

"You joined JAG to gain convenient access to the Navy Archives. That's why you cultivate a relationship with Clay too, so he'll give you the classified files of the Iron Hand missions your father flew when he was shot down."

Harm gulped. How could he argue against his own figment of imagination? After all, the ghost standing before him knew all his deepest darkest thoughts.

"You're not real." Harm batted back lamely.

"No, I'm not. But you are. And your feelings are." Diane's ghost rejoined.

"What do you want?"

"Maybe it's time for you to let go, Harm."

"I can't. I made a promise."

"To whom, son?" a scratchy male voice asked.

Harm found that Diane's ghost was no longer alone. There was a tall man standing next to her, his flight suit familiar to Harm. The name patch on his uniform even more familiar.

'Harmon Rabb'

No senior, no need for it. He was the original Harmon Rabb. Harm was the poor imitation.

"Dad?"

Harmon Rabb's features were hidden by the shadows, however Harm could see the older man speaking. But Harm couldn't hear anything but a soft hiss.

"You've forgotten what he sounds like." Diane's ghost explained. "I wonder how long before I become like him."

"I haven't forgotten..."

"You forgot." Diane's ghost cut through the excuses. "Of course, it's hard to remember I'm dead with my doppleganger staring at you everyday."

"Diane..."

"Maybe its just time healing old wounds. Maybe it's better this way."

"How is it better? How is _this_ better?" Harm shouted angrily at the woman who ripped out his heart by dying.

"Maybe it's time you find out." she said sadly.

Harm wiped his tired eyes. When he looked up once more, everything was gone. He was all alone.

oxoxoxo

Harm's eyes popped open and he stared at the ceiling of his hotel room. He didn't even care to find the time.

Of the three great losses in his life - his father, flying and Diane, he wondered if he felt hers most acutely because it was the most recent.

Or because she was the one that hurt the most.

oxoxoxo

0400 ZULU  
LIZ HOLST'S SAFEHOUSE

"Major MacKenzie, thank you so much for coming."

Liz Holst let Mac into her kitchen. Mac hadn't been able to get to sleep after her talk with Harm and had contemplated getting a midnight run in when the wife of her client had called.

Mac had put on her uniform - it was armor, as anything else almost seemed too casual. Too relaxed. Too revelatory. Too fragile.

"I know it's late. It's just that I couldn't sleep." Liz continued as Mac took a seat at the small breakfast nook.

"Yeah, I know the feeling." Mac replied flatly.

Liz took it the wrong way, "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have called you so late."

"No, no, it's all right, I wasn't being sarcastic. I was up too." Mac admitted.

"Oh, good. I mean, not good that you were awake. I mean, good that..." Liz was babbling and both women knew it. "Can I get you some coffee? Oh, of course you don't want coffee. It's the middle of the night. Although, coffee actually puts some people to sleep. Did you know that?"

"You didn't ask me to come over to talk about coffee, did you, Mrs. Holst?" Mac asked, cutting off the older woman.

"I guess not." the CPO's wife admitted. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Liz asked what was on her mind, "Do you think they're gonna convict my husband?"

At Mac's blank stare, Liz elaborated, "I mean, that stuff about the letter, that helps him, doesn't it?"

"Not much." Mac admitted, "Especially since Petty Officer Carlos was probably still at the bar during the murder."

Liz looked worriedly at the Marine, "So if they convict Freddy, they could sentence him to death."

"They could." Mac admitted coldly.

Liz's face was suddenly full of concern for her husband, "My husband is a pig, Major MacKenzie, but... he doesn't deserve to die."

"Not even if he killed someone?" Mac raised an eyebrow at her statement. When Liz wasn't forthcoming, Mac asked the million dollar question, "Mrs. Holst, what really happened that night?"

Liz looked beaten, broken, repentant rather than resistant. She sighed, "I was crying so badly, I couldn't see straight. I was afraid I was gonna be sick. I didn't want to because Freddy doesn't like it when I make a mess."

oxoxoxo

"Where have you been?" Fred Holst ambled into the bathroom where his barely dressed wife was crouched on the floor.

He had been at their house when she got back, standing in a suggestively opened robe, waiting to punish her for her indiscretion. Waiting to reclaim her as his woman whether she liked it or not. Waiting to leave bruises on her body, branding her as his property.

oxoxoxo

Mac asked Mrs. Holst who was on the witness stand. "So your husband was home, Mrs. Holst?"

"Yes."

"And you lied in your previous testimony?"

"Yes. He was home when I got there."

Mac glanced over at Harm who was staring daggers at her witness, "Why did you lie?" Mac asked as she moved to block him from Liz's view.

Liz stared at her husband, her eyes filled with hate, "Because I wanted him dead. I hate you, Freddy. I hate you so much I can't even stand to look at you. But I can't do this. I can't kill you."

Mrs. Holst ripped her gaze from her husband's, and stared right at the jury. "He was there. He was home when I got there. He couldn't have done it."

oxoxoxo

Sixteen and a half hours after initial contact by Bud, Clayton Webb finally called back. Bud who had been hovering nearby in the office snatched up the phone eagerly.

Webb's voice was even more smug than usual, "Tell Rabb I had to pull a few favors for this..."

"Yes sir." Bud felt faint, already imagining the horrifying things Webb would put the Commander through for a favor the Commander didn't even know about.

"It was the Germes - a Russian spy satellite, and you are in luck that the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service kept a record of this."

"Why sir?"

"Because they found something on the picture. If it had just been a beach feature, they would have deleted the image already. Do you have a fax ready?"

"Yes sir." Bud fumbled to find the fax number. He relayed it to Clay.

"Rabb doesn't know anything about this, does he?"

"No sir." Bud was so relieved to be released from a lie.

"So it must be for Major MacKenzie."

Bud's guilt made him tell the truth this time again too. "Yes sir."

"Good. That means they both owe me one. Roberts was it?"

"Yes sir."

"Thank you."

CLICK.

Bud felt his blood turn ice cold as he buried his head in his hands. He had sold both the Major and the Commander up the river. Whatever the picture was, he hoped it was worth it.

oxoxoxo

Bud was spacing out when Harm spoke to him, "She did good today."

It took Bud a second to realize who Harm was talking about, "Oh, Major MacKenzie. Yes, sir. She was great." Bud said, laying it on thick as he tried not to think about the nasty surprises that lay in wait for his superior officers. "Sensational, terrific. She really did a good job."

Harm looked at Bud curiously, "I said good, Bud, not the Second Coming."

Bud blushed, "Oh, yes, sir."

The fax machine kicked to life, and Bud flew to it instantly. "I think that might be for me, sir." he read the cover sheet, "Yes, Lieutenant J. G. Bud Roberts. That's my name."

"That's you, Bud." Harm said distractedly as he checked the administrator's desk for any messages about his other cases. Harm then noticed Bud's sudden change in demeanor. The man looked like his dog and his best friend had both dueled each other to the death, and neither survived.

"Are you okay, Bud?"

"Me, sir? Oh, I'm fine, I'm great. Doing real good. Yes, sir." Bud said with feigned enthusiasm. Based on his performance, no Emmy's were in Bud's future.

Mac entered the area and sighed at her JAG partner. "Nice work, counsellor." At his look of surprise, "Oh, I still think Holst is a manipulative pig... but thank you, Harm, for everything." she said, giving him a sincere smile.

"Don't thank me. I still think he's guilty." Harm said with his flyboy grin melting through another layer of her defenses.

"Prove it." she said sassily and she gave him a warm smile of her own as he moved towards his office to make a few calls.

Bud interrupted their moment, "Major?"

Mac whirled around to see Bud looking like he'd just buried his best friend... and dog, "Are you all right, Bud?"

"Commander Rabb just asked me the same thing."

"Well, you should see your expression." Mac said worriedly.

In about ten seconds, she found out what had him so worried. And her face mirrored Bud's. Mac stared at the satellite picture Bud just got from the State Department.

"That son-of-a-bitch lied to us." she let fly. After she had just spent all morning proving that Holst was at home all the time, she discovered this now.

The picture in her hand showed the Pontiac Firebird of Chief Petty Officer Holst parked at the last place he was supposed to be - next to his wife's car at the crime scene on the night of the murder. He was there all along, meaning he could... and probably did kill the Ensign.

She shoved the picture in her briefcase and walked off, leaving Bud to trail after her. "Major?"

It wasn't until twenty minutes later when she had found a secluded spot for them to analyze and discuss their defense strategy for CPO Holst that she spoke again.

"What were you expecting to find with this evidence, Bud?"

"The truth ma'am." Bud said sadly, knowing that he had cost their team a win, but at least they could help put the right man behind bars.

"Well you've definitely found it."

"What do we do, ma'am?"

Mac looked out over the ocean. There were many thoughts running through her head, but primary of which was that she had gotten exactly what she wanted. She wanted Holst to be guilty, was convinced of it earlier in the week, and she was right.

The problem now was after her talk with Harm, she saw that punishing Holst wasn't the same as punishing her father. Her father had been everything Holst had been but he hadn't killed anyone. He may have driven away her mother, then herself, but Joe MacKenzie had never in a fit of drunkenness or rage ever stolen another man's life.

"We're here to defend Chief Holst of murder."

"Yes ma'am, but he did it." Bud exclaimed.

"You don't know that, and that's not our job to prove, Bud." she handed the offending piece of evidence back to him. She had made her choice. Maybe it wasn't honorable, but it was to the strict letter of the law - she would provide Chief Holst with the very best defense she could give. The Chief may be a monster, but she wasn't. And she wasn't incompetent either. "Shred this satellite photo, Bud."

Bud was horrified at her very suggestion to bury the truth, "Major. Are we going to let a murderer walk free?"

"That's an order, Lieutenant." she rose and left. Bud stared after her, his mood darkening. He had taken up law because he believed in the preservation of justice and upholding the truth as officers of the court. What Major MacKenzie went against his own moral code and Bud was sure of one thing...

If that was what being a lawyer was all about, then he didn't want any part of it.

oxoxoxo

NEXT DAY  
1633 ZULU  
NORFOLK NAVAL COURTHOUSE, VIRGINIA

Mac quickly exited the courtroom, ignoring the plaintive cries from her client CPO Holst as he was led away in chains. He begged her, he actually had the gall to beg her to save him, to be his attorney at the appeal, to do something to overturn the court's decision.

He was found guilty of first degree murder and Mac breathed a sigh of relief. Bud had destroyed the fax placing Holst at the scene of the crime as per her orders, but somehow her infuriatingly brilliant partner at JAG had dug up the same picture, decisively destroying Liz Holst on the stand into revealing that she had found her husband on the beach standing with the murder weapon in his hand and the dead body of Rob Felker at his feet. She also fell apart enough to reveal that they had strategized how to cover up the crime together.

Mac couldn't help but feel guilty about how strained her relationship with Bud now was. He had trusted the system, and worse, he had trusted her. By making him destroy evidence, she had similarly destroyed any trust he had given her. It would take her a long time to regain his trust, if she ever did.

She made her way towards the exit and realized that she wasn't alone. A sad little smile creased her face when she realized who it was. She pushed open her side of the wide double doors and saw him push open his.

"Nice work, counselor." she said, acknowledging his victory.

"Well I should be congratulating you." Harm smiled down at her.

"Why? You won the case." Mac looked up, confused at her partner's words.

"You won the war."

She had, hadn't she? She managed to put aside her personal feelings and tried defending a man she found reprehensible to the best of her abilities - as desperate as some of her methods were. The Admiral had asked her to check her emotions at the door and while she still believed that her emotions could serve her well, she also knew that there were times and places where such emotion would only hinder her.

Like her emotions about her past. Maybe especially those emotions. It was time to make peace with it and move forward.

"Strange isn't it? You say something's in the past but it never really is? I carry my dad with me everywhere I go."

"So do I." Harm thought of the fate of his missing father, "It's okay as long as he doesn't weigh too much." Harm smiled and she returned it.

"He doesn't. Not anymore." Mac said, though she knew that she still had a long way to go before she could ever let go completely.

"You know Mac..." Harm wanted to share with her his own baggage with his father, but realized that maybe now wasn't a good time. Not when they were in uniform.

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing this weekend?" he chanced, hoping she was free.

"Commander, are you asking me out?"

He panicked at her misjudgment of his intent.

Mac smiled at his expression and let him off the hook, "Relax, I'm kidding. What is it?"

He had an idea of taking her flying, maybe someplace secluded where they could hash out their own pasts and leave it there so when they got back to D.C, they could both move on.

"Well... I just wanted to know if you wanted to follow me someplace."

"Depends. Are there going to be any poachers?"

Harm's face fell, "You're never going to let me take you flying again are you?"

"I could be persuaded, if you plead your case." she teased, letting him know he still had a shot at taking her up.

"Only if you lay off those Beltway burgers." he teased back.

Mac punched his arm, "Jerk! So where are we going?"

For the first time in what seemed an eternity, Mac experienced his megawatt smile. And Mac couldn't help but feel this one was a little more special because she was the one who put it there.

oxoxoxo

0140 ZULU  
MAC'S APARTMENT  
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.

_'What is he doing here?'_ was Mac's first thought when she saw him through the peephole of her door. Her second thought was, _'It's Friday night.'_

Her third thought came when her hand turned the knob to let him in. _'He looks good enough to eat.'_

"H-Harm. What are you doing here?" Mac blushed furiously as she tried to put away the final thought in her head.

"Hey, Mac. Is this a bad time?"

"No. Come in." she wanted to pull him in, but realized that maybe stepping out of the way was the more polite thing to do. So she stepped aside to let him walk in under his own power.

"Thanks. Have you had dinner?" Harm asked, unsure how to broach the subject for his visit so chose to proceed first with awkward small talk.

At her funny expression he turned to notice the piping hot pizza on her dining table. "Ah. Well, I could come back later."

"There's enough for both of us, flyboy." she walked to the kitchen to bring him a plate. "What do you want to drink?"

"Whatever you have is fine." Harm said as he sat down at the table. He noticed the toppings. "I see you went with the Dead Animal Special."

"It's the Grand Slam Supreme. Four types of meat with extra cheese and bacon."

"More like Heart Attack In Waiting." he teased and she swatted his arm playfully in return, garnering bright smiles all round. Bright smiles that quickly dimmed to shy smiles.

"You can pick off the toppings you don't want and leave them for me." she said as she set his plate and a glass of juice in front of him.

"So basically I'm eating dough and cheese."

"There's tomatoes." Mac pointed out the red smears on the pizza.

"Tomato sauce." Harm smiled, before picking away the slices of meat. But he found there were some mushrooms and olives hidden between the meat stacks, and Harm couldn't help but imagine that the pizzeria had snuck those in under the risk of death, knowing Mac.

Dinner was pleasant and to ensure he didn't starve, Mac let Harm have more slices of the pizza as she concentrated on the toppings he picked off.

With dinner cleared and them settling comfortably on her couch, Harm knew that he couldn't put off talking about why he had shown up at her door any longer.

"Hey Mac, I'm sorry about tomorrow."

Mac sighed, "Well, it's hardly your fault if NATO decided they needed you to be in Romania before Monday."

She had to admit she was disappointed that their plan to drive down to Dumfries for the weekend was dashed. While they hadn't made any concrete plans, Harm had suggested that they'd go hiking in the woods and just talk out everything that held them back from moving forward as individuals. Her about her father, and him about his.

That was until they had walked back in to JAG HQ and had Clayton Webb and the Admiral drop the bombshell on them - Harm was flying to Romania over the weekend, as legal liaison and a special guest of the Romanian Royal family.

"What time is your flight?" Mac asked.

"O-seven-thirty."

"Sure you can wake up on time?"

"Care to provide a wake up service, Major?" he said, his flyboy grin teasing her.

"Ye... Red light, Commander." Mac waved a warning finger at him.

His flyboy grin widened, "I was thinking of a phone call, Mac. What were you thinking?"

"I think you're getting up on your own, squid." she teased back. "So how long will you be gone?"

"Might be two weeks, might be four. Depends on how much grief Webb gives them before they kick us out." he said with a wry grin.

"How about how much grief you'll give them?"

"I'm under strict orders to be good, remember?"

"And when has that ever worked?"

"Never. But at least I'll try." he winked, almost causing Mac to swoon. _God, he was beautiful._

"You didn't have to show up to apologize for canceling Harm. You could have just called."

"Yeah, but then I wouldn't be able to give you this."

Her heart almost stopped as he handed her the tiny shiny object.

"Is that...?"

"I was wondering... maybe you could keep an eye on my place while I'm gone."

"You're giving me a key to your apartment?" Mac looked at him in surprise.

"It's a spare key. I mean, I kept it taped in my letter box, but I figured what's safer than keeping it with a Marine guard?" he grinned.

She took the key from him and turned it over.

"Aren't you afraid I'll go through your drawers?" she asked, noticing the double entendre and hoping he didn't.

The thought honestly had not passed his mind. He reached out to take his key back.

"On second thoughts..."

"Aha! You're gonna have to fight this Marine to get it back."

He stretched over her to grab the key she kept out of reach, keeping it from his grasp. They wrestled all over her couch, giggling like kids, his body pinning hers to the cushions as his hand reached for hers.

When he suddenly realized how close they were, how he was pressed right against her thigh. And realized how in a few seconds she would feel something else pressed against her thigh too.

He quickly retreated to his side of the couch and found a way to diffuse the tension, "Glad to know I've got the Marine who takes her guard duties seriously." he said with a shaky smile.

Mac felt how hot her skin had gotten just by horsing around with Harm, and realized that he had been sprawled all over her just seconds earlier. Her mind also realized that his parts had come very close to touching her parts, and those parts now sparked with a desire that her mind was trying very hard to keep a lid on.

Silence stretched out, they were suddenly unsure what to say, and too scared to ruin the moment in case the night could still lead to something more. Neither wanted him to leave, but both were afraid of what would happen if he stayed.

Swallowing hard, Harm regained control of his senses and got off the couch.

"I guess I should go."

"I guess so." she replied, though she hoped he wouldn't. When he moved towards her door, she sighed and rose from the couch too.

She walked him to the door. That was when she decided if he turned back she would kiss him. Just once. For luck. For her.

He stepped out of her apartment and to her surprise, he turned round to face her, "Bye Mac."

"Bye Harm." Mac automatically responded. Then she shut the door without her kiss.

She had panicked and bailed on her decision. She leaned back against the door and cursed herself. Maybe it wasn't too late. She threw open the door to look for him but found he was gone. The corridor was empty. She had missed her chance.

Closing the door once more she leaned against it. She looked at the small key in her hand.

It was then that Mac realized what she was feeling for Harm, and it explained why she was so hesitant to act on her feelings. She realized why she was so attracted to him even though he was her best friend.

Because he was her best friend.

He was Eddie all over again.

Eddie who she loved but who didn't love her the way she wanted him to. Eddie who died because they were stupid and reckless. Eddie who was her protector, savior, hero. Eddie who was always there for her when she needed him. Harm was Eddie.

After the heartache she had gone through when Eddie rejected her, enough to make her run to another man, the wrong man, Sarah MacKenzie was determined this time it was his turn. That if her best friend wanted to be with her as much as she wanted him, he would have to make the first move.

She wouldn't be able to bear the rejection again.

That didn't stop her from berating herself that she should have still kissed him.

* * *

**Next Episode: **Bloodlines (Original Episode)

**AN:** Hey, the season's almost over and I'm ending it with an original ep, so I hope it lives up to the hype.

I'm still not back to writing full speed yet, so you will still probably have to wait a while for updates to all my stuff. I am hoping my situation settles down soon and I can get back to full throttle, but at the moment, it's all up in the air.

'Til then, please enjoy my stories, and please let me know what you think. Please. I always need motivation to write, and your feedback does indeed motivate me to write. :)


	29. Ep 14: Bloodlines (Part 1)

**AN: **Welcome to the season finale of JAG - Retold (Season 2). I hope you've enjoyed the ride so far, and I wouldn't mind hearing if you did.

This is an original episode, one I hope lives up to the awesomeness of a real JAG episode and hopefully makes you want to see what Season 3 has in store for us. :)

And now, I bring you...

* * *

**Episode 14:  
Bloodlines (Part 1)**

1830 ZULU  
YAROSLAVSKY STATION  
MOSCOW, RUSSIA

A lone train sat on the platform under positively utilitarian steel, brick and sheet metal. While much of Moscow's splendid architecture thrilled tourists on the outside, building interiors were as attractive as communism ever was to the people who suffered under its rule - not at all.

The locomotive at the platform had a small flag painted on its nose, that of the new Russian Federation - perhaps a vain indication, and hope, of better times ahead.

This was the train heading to all points west of Moscow, the overnight train that serviced the distant and now open furthest reaches of Western Europe thanks to the end of the Cold War and the rise of the European Union.

Passengers, both of the patient and impatient variety, waited on the platform as inspectors and drug sniffing dogs made sure the train was clear of any stowaways or contraband. This was just standard rule of life in everyday Moscow - a remnant of old Soviet rule that the new Federation hadn't gotten around to relax.

Among the crowd was a beautiful blonde dressed in Paris' finest. She had her arm draped around a tall older gentleman, old enough to be her father, but who was most probably not.

"Europe in summer is wonderful, my dear." the blonde beauty whispered into the ear of her tall male companion.

Her voice was accented, Eastern European, or at a stretch, Scandinavian, but she spoke perfect English otherwise. A glance at her would make her out as nothing more than a beautiful young woman with blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and the curves of a swimsuit model suggested at but not revealed underneath her very expensive designer coat.

"Anywhere at anytime with you, my dear is even better." the tall man whispered back. He was in his late-fifties with dark hair kissed by streaks of white at his temples, giving him the aristocratic air of European royalty, if not for the very thick Russian accent that came forth. His face was hidden, dark lenses covered his eyes while a scarf hid the rest of his features.

A chill wind whipped around the platform, making the beautiful blonde wrap the coat around her tighter. While summertime in Moscow promised warmer temperatures, rain and the late hour - a little over 9.30 P.M local time, also meant that the warming rays of the sun had long since disappeared.

They were standing on the platform of the Trans-European Express waiting to board. It was crowded, too many people found travel westward enticing and exciting. With the fall of the Soviet Empire and the eventual easing of European travel restrictions, all of Europe was now open to all wallets, not just those of wealthy Russians.

"Think they found what they were looking for?" the blonde asked as she noticed the drug dogs and the inspectors began leaving the train.

"If they did, we'll be very much dead." the Russian man responded.

"Then we'll have to hope wherever you hid the list fools them." she smiled with an ease that her voice didn't reflect.

The dogs and inspectors cleared the train and all the passengers rushed towards the door, as if afraid that their seats would be stolen otherwise.

"Stick close to me, my love." she said with a smile while placing his hand on her hip, and was reassured by the slight squeeze he put there that signified his compliance.

The blonde and her man were jostled by the crowd, hemmed in on all sides as they made their way to the door of their train carriage. A sudden surge of the crowd pushed her forward.

And just as suddenly, the blonde felt the hand on her hip let go. She whirled around in panic to be faced by numerous faces trying to edge in past her. She scanned the crowd, holding up the line to the annoyance of the other passengers, so she stepped out to get a better look. Her eyes darted around the platform when she heard the piercing scream of a terrified woman. She ran towards the sound and found her worst nightmare come true.

On the floor lay the body of her companion. Russian police were already crouching over his body so she couldn't get near. She had to escape. She calmly joined the crowd and boarded the train.

Once on board, the blonde quickly returned to her private cabin, locked the door and removed her coat. Feeling along the inside lining of the coat, she found a tiny hidden seam, unravelled the stitching there and pulled out a tiny cell phone. Switching it on, she keyed in a sequence on her keypad - too short for a phone number, too long to be anything but a key code. She held the phone to her ear.

"State Department, how may I help you?" said the voice on the other end.

The blonde spoke in English. Gone was the accent, not even the slightest hint to who she was or where she was from. She spoke clearly and precisely, "Clayton Webb please."

"And whom may I say is calling?"

"His wife."

oxoxoxo

Following in his father's footsteps as a Naval aviator, Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb Jr. suffered a crash while landing his Tomcat on a storm-tossed carrier at sea.

Diagnosed with night blindness, Harm transferred to the Navy's Judge Advocate General Corps, which investigates, defends and prosecutes the law of the sea.

There, with fellow JAG lawyer Major Sarah MacKenzie, he now fights in and out of the courtroom with the same daring and tenacity that made him a top gun in the air.

oxoxoxo

1030 ZULU  
ROMANIAN ROYAL PALACE  
BUCHAREST, ROMANIA

Sensing the rising frustration in the room, the man who everyone listened to without question, calmly and clearly said, "Gentlemen... and ladies, before we continue further, I believe it is time for lunch."

Those words spoken by anyone else might have seemed comically plain for the opulent setting of an imperial court but when said by King Josif of Romania, it was to be taken as what it was meant - an order to take a break.

No one disagreed as it was half-past noon local time and the morning sessions had once again proved fruitless. King Josif stood up from his seat at the large round table, prompting everyone else to rise as well as a mark of respect.

Once the King had left the hall with his ministers, the military men from various branches of NATO, all in their dress uniforms came together to discuss their views on how best to proceed with the afternoon session. It was again a purely academic exercise for they were merely engaging in small talk to fill the minutes before they were summoned to the royal banquet hall.

For the last two weeks as guests of the King, they had enjoyed well prepared if not overly indulgent fare. And for the last two weeks, no progress had been made over the request of where exactly to put the NATO naval base.

Lt. Cmdr. Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr. did not have a seat at the main round table, even if he was a guest of the King. He didn't have the requisite cache, rank, expertise nor an impressive enough fruit salad (military breast patch) to sit in with the big boys.

He was merely a lawyer - not a flag officer, not a strategist, not even an architect or geologist. His job was similar to the one performed by the numerous other military lawyers that sat behind their representatives - mostly to read and decipher legal documents as dished out by all the other parties and occasionally to advise which words a speaking general or admiral could or should use in negotiations.

While most of the faces at the meetings had been unfamiliar to him, two though stood out, and both remembered him fondly. One of which spoke to him now.

"Hi, Harm. Trying to sneak out again?"

Her playful tone belied her actual station. He turned towards the now familiar voice, familiar for she had been insistent that he be her escort for the entire duration of his stay in her country.

"Good afternoon, Princess. And no, I am not sneaking out, and before you ask, I'm not sneaking out with you either." he said with a easy smile.

"I thought I told you to call me Alexi." she pouted. The Royal Princess Alexandra of Romania was a beautiful young lady of 21, who was the very specimen of poise, charm and regal bearing except when it came to Harm. With him, she replaced poise, charm and regal bearing with open flirtatiousness. "You know, if you just took a tour of my room, you wouldn't actually be sneaking out."

"I think starting an international incident is worse." Harm replied with his smile still firmly in place.

"Well, it beats having to sit around listening to musty old men talk about rocks all day."

Harm's smile widened at her concise summation of the last two weeks. Indeed, they had spent most of it listening to geologists debate the suitability and stability of each site to build the NATO base.

"Besides, why does that Navy hag get to spend all her time with you?" Alexi said with mock hurt.

Harm noticed the Navy hag in question approaching, her long legs covering the distance between them with an effortless sexy ease.

"Princess. Commander Rabb." she acknowledged them with a slight upward lilt, unsure if she was interrupting something personal. Harm turned towards the second familiar face he knew, hoping to finally formally introduce them to each other.

"Princess Alexandra, please meet Lieutenant Commander Caitlin Pike, NLSO Naples."

"Your Highness." Kate greeted her while giving Harm the same all-knowing and suggestive smile she always gave him. The one that always made it seem like she had just caught him doing something naughty.

To her credit, Alexi shook Kate's hand, her diplomatic training kicking in over her inner brat even as she eyed her 'competition'.

"So, Miss Pike. How do you know Harm?" Alexi said with a voice that could make ice, deliberately dropping Kate's rank.

"The Commander and I were once partners at JAG, your Highness." Kate ignored the chilliness.

"But not any longer?"

"Unfortunately no." Kate looked ruefully at Harm. "But based on my recommendation I think they found him a good partner. Meg says hi by the way."

"Meg?" Alexi asked, unfamiliar with the name and eager to take stock of all possible competition for Harm's attention.

"Lieutenant Meg Austin. She's another of Harm's former partners at JAG."

"Another? Do you tire of your partners so easily, Commander?" Alexi asked, returning to his formal title - an indication that she was now serious even if her tone was still light.

"Not at all, Princess. But I might be driving them away somehow."

"Well Commander, if I remember right, your investigations had a knack for taking a turn for the exciting." Kate grinned.

Alexi sensed there was something more between the two of them. Not to be outdone by their history, Alexi went into her own tale, "I agree. The Commander himself saved my life from an assassin. He earned that medal right there for it." she smiled proudly, pointing to one of the two medals on his chest.

Kate turned to Harm, again with that all knowing smile. "The Military Virtue Medal, I'm impressed, Commander." she noticed the other medal pinned on his chest.

"And Princess, we might have something else in common. Harm, wasn't our first case together the very one you earned your Distinguished Flying Cross?"

Harm realized there was something going on between the two women, something unsaid and he was missing it. All he knew was he was somehow in the middle of it. He needed a gracious way to extract himself but one wasn't presenting itself at the moment.

So an ungracious one intruded instead. Unfortunately for Harm, it was named Clayton Webb.

"Princess, Commander," Clay acknowledged both women before turning towards Harm, "Rabb, if you have a minute."

Webb's interruption set off warning bells in Harm's head. Clay was not one to interrupt a member of the Royal family, unless it was a matter of life and death. Keeping calm, Harm excused himself before following the man from State to one of the connecting rooms where they could talk in private.

oxoxoxo

The room Clay chose was a stateroom - which after years under Communist rule was utilitarian rather than impressive. Still, there was an attempt to return things to glory - evident in the plush and modern styled furnishings as well as other modest creature comforts.

Once inside, Clay locked the door and his normal facade of arrogance fell. He looked genuinely shaken up.

"Webb, what's wrong?"

"My wife called."

Harm was surprised, "I didn't know you were married."

"I'm not." Clay said as he moved to the small bar set up in the room. He poured himself some liquor from a decanter.

"I don't understand. What's going on, Clay?"

Taking a deep breath and a nip from his drink, Clay dove in to his explanation, "My 'wife' is an agent named Angela Ward. She and I have a code. How she defines our relationship denotes how bad things are on her end."

"And wife is bad?"

"Wife is really bad."

"Why?"

"It's code for tell my loved ones goodbye."

Harm observed Clay take a longer swig of the brown liquid. No adulteration, just pure scotch and a lot of it. There was more to this than Clay was telling.

"She's your partner?" Harm asked, wondering if the woman may be more than just a coworker.

"She's my agent. I'm her Operations Chief."

Meaning Clay was responsible for helping her finish her missions, though not for keeping her alive. Hence his concern for her was surprising. "Can't you get her out?"

"No. We don't work that way."

It was the closest admission Clay would ever give to admitting who his real employers were.

"But you came to me."

"My hands are tied. Yours aren't."

Harm couldn't believe the gall Clay displayed. He was going to use his favor on this? "You want me to risk my life to get one of your agents out? I don't work for the CIA, Clay."

"I'm going to tell you something that is above your security clearance, Harm. And believe me, it's something you'll want to hear."

Clay sat in one of the plush chairs, playing with his now empty glass. He was staring at nothing in particular as he started to talk.

"In 1969, the Kremlin discovered that the abilities of American pilots to evade Surface-To-Air-Missiles was far superior to anything their pilots were capable of. At first they believed it was due to our technology, hence why they supplied the North Vietnamese with all the weaponry they needed to take us on - in exchange for everything American they shot down."

Harm took a seat as well as he listened to Clay's tale.

"By 1971, they found that we had no space age materials on our jets that fooled SAMs. So they began looking into other areas..." Clay looked at Harm, "Most notably pilots."

Fear began to grip Harm. He was starting to suspect where this was going.

"In 1972, the first shipment of US pilots captured in Vietnam was delivered to Siberia."

Harm jumped to his feet, ready to throttle the CIA agent in front of him.

"You're telling me that the CIA has known that American POWs have been trapped in Russia for almost 30 years?!"

"We had suspicions but no proof. And no way of finding them even if we did."

"My father could be one of them."

"Yes he could be. So do you want to listen to the rest now?"

Still seething, Harm sat back down.

"Angie was bringing in an ex-KGB... or FSB or whatever they're calling it nowadays, double agent. He was one of ours posing as one of theirs posing as one of ours. Vilen Lagunov."

Clay set his empty glass down and resisted the urge to top up. "Lagunov had compiled a list of all the American POWs shipped to the Soviet Union. He stayed after the fall to continue compiling that list. He was killed just as he was about to step on a train to be extracted. That's why Angie called. She knows that if someone got to Lagunov, then she's probably been made too."

"What happened to the list?"

"That's what we need to find out. If we have it, we can look to bring some of them home. But if the FSB finds it first..." Clay looked Harm dead in the eye, "... the POWs will disappear, and we'll never know if they even existed."

Harm glared at the man from State even as he cursed internally. He could say no, he was well within his rights to. But he also knew that Clay had him hooked.

oxoxoxo

Major Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie found her mind wandering as she sat patiently, waiting. She wasn't in uniform, wasn't there on official business.

In the intervening 60 second period since she had been shown in the visitation room, she found that she had thought about her handsome partner at JAG for exactly 48 seconds. Here she was about to see the most important person in her life and she was thinking about her best friend instead.

The buzz of the door broke any further analysis of her state of mind. She stood up and a great big smile broke out over her face when she saw the man she was here to visit enter the room.

"Hi Uncle Matt."

"Sarah!"

They hugged briefly before taking their seats.

Visitation at Leavenworth wasn't entirely the same for all its inmates. Even though it was a maximum security prison, most of its inmates belonged to branches of the Armed Forces meaning there was a less constrictive environment imposed.

And as not all criminals sentenced here were created equal, those who were deemed less dangerous were allowed to meet their visitors without chains or forced to sit separated by thick glass. As was the case now with Matt able to sit at the same table as his niece.

"How are you Uncle Matt? Is everything okay?"

"Same old, Sarah. It's looking better now that you're here. What brings you out this way? A case?"

"No. I just figured it's been a couple of months since my last visit..."

"No exact time for me?" he teased, knowing full well of her uncanny ability to keep time.

"I try not to think about it. I'm so sorry Uncle Matt, I wish we could have gotten you a lighter sentence."

Matthew O'Hara stared at his niece. She and her JAG partner, Harmon Rabb Jr. had been his defense counsel during his trial for the theft of the Declaration of Independence.

They had done a mighty fine job in his mind. First, they had beat Congress at their own game by turning popular media in his favor - painting him as a patriot and a hero of the people. Matt had been shy about that tactic, but Harm had convinced him that making him too popular to take on was the only way Congress wouldn't want to take their shot at him.

Washington however insisted on a military tribunal, and while it wasn't ideal, it allowed them to highlight his service record and his Medal of Honor, reminding everyone what Colonel Matthew O'Hara fought for and believed in. If they had gotten a civilian court date, Harm had said they might have gotten a better result.

That is if Matt hadn't changed his plea to guilty, ready to accept whatever punishment the UCMJ was ready to throw at him.

However, the tribunal was lenient in light of Matt's role in the return of the Declaration, his years of proud service to the uniform and his current advanced age.

"Eight years is plenty, but it sure beats having to break rocks for the next forty, Sarah. I'm surprised they even let me keep my benefits."

Mac smiled, "Well, I did tell you Harm was really good at the impassioned plea."

"Indeed he is." Matt laughed, remembering the Lieutenant Commander's passionate arguments - even Matt had been convinced that this Colonel O'Hara character was as great as Harm made him out to be. "So how's the Commander? He didn't get you shot again did he?"

"No." she laughed. "And besides he got me out safely."

"He got you in trouble in the first place."

"Well, I'm all better now, so stop worrying. How about you?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

Matt thought hard about his days. "Last Tuesday we had fried chicken."

"Uncle Matt." she was not amused with his answer.

"No, Sarah, that was the extent of the excitement in here. Granted at my age, it probably is for the best. And besides, I write to you often enough so you know all about my days. I want to know about yours. Any new cases?"

Mac grew quiet, the trial two weeks prior still fresh in her mind. "Not really..." she lied.

Matt knew his niece too well. She was a fine lawyer, and a fine Marine but the one thing she wasn't was a fine liar. The fact that she had tried to deceive him was enough to let him know it was a biggie.

But he let it drop for the moment. He hadn't seen her in over two months and he didn't want to jeopardize his limited time with her by forcing her to open up when she wasn't ready to talk - another thing he knew about her - if she was pushed too far, she'll close herself off or worse, run.

"You never answered my earlier question. How is the Commander?"

Mac sighed. It didn't go unnoticed by her uncle. "He's fine, uncle."

"Then why are you sighing, Sarah? A Marine doesn't sigh for a sailor."

His playful tone and subsequent grin cheered her up. "Yeah, I guess I need to remind myself that."

"He's very handsome."

"Uncle Matt!"

"I'm just stating the obvious." Matt's grin widened when he noticed the blush creeping all over his niece's pretty face.

"Can we not talk about him? I came to see you."

"And I came to talk about you. I can't exactly watch out for you from in here, MacKenzie."

"I can watch out for myself, sir." she replied in the same tone. It harkened back to their exchanges when she was a recruit and he still a Colonel. Even though those were hard times, it brought back good memories, but mostly it was a reminder of how he kept her sober when she felt herself faltering.

"I know, but you shouldn't be pulling 24-hour shifts. It'll make me feel better if you had someone watching your back."

"I know. Don't worry Uncle Matt, I'm still on the wagon."

"Big milestone last month, Sarah. Ten years."

"Has it been that long?" she looked genuinely surprised.

Matt knew she was finally ready to share. He prodded gently, "Sarah, what happened?"

"There was a case..."

"Tell me about it."

"No, forget it, Uncle Matt."

"Sarah." he said in the tone that always got her to spill her guts.

She resisted, but eventually her resolve crumbled, "It was a murder case in Norfolk."

oxoxoxo

1530 ZULU  
CENTRAL RAILWAY STATION  
SOFIA, BULGARIA

The Trans-European Express waited on the platform, its big diesel locomotive tainting the air with the familiar smell of exhaust fumes and hot steel. The platform itself looked decidedly deserted, just a large entourage of well wishers sending off their one relative with a train ticket - as if he carried their dreams of a better life with him. Perhaps he did.

Onboard the train, Angela Ward was methodically peeling back the leather upholstery of the seats of her luxury cabin, searching for the list hidden by Vilen Lagunov before he was killed. It was a spacious room - narrow but two cabins long, One end housed a sitting area of sorts with a small overhead TV and a mini fridge. The other end housed the honeymoon suite - a queen sized bed with a private bathroom small enough for one person to get stuck in. It was the height of luxury on this train with the ticket price to prove it.

Angie was on instant alert when she heard the knock on the cabin room door. She heard the repeating tune the knock played - there was no mistaking the signal - Clay!

But she was no dummy and she didn't relax her guard. She grabbed her gun - a small caliber with a lengthy suppressor - and flicked open the lock before sitting near the window, keeping the gun trained on the door.

"Come in." she said in a lilting voice - a mistress calling to her lover.

The door opened to reveal a tall man she didn't know. He was handsome, she could admit that but it was not a familiar face - and that was never a good sign.

Harm heard the cock of her gun and saw that it was aimed at him dead center. He held his hands up.

"Angela?"

"Close the door." she said with her fake Eastern European accent and he did as ordered. "Lock it." He did that too.

"Who are you?" she finally asked.

"Harmon Rabb Junior. Clayton Webb sent me."

"Who are you?" she asked again more forcefully.

Harm frowned before realization dawned, "United States Navy." he answered this time.

"Damn. He sent a sailor?" she said dropping her accent for good. It surprised him a little but he took it in stride.

"Well, actually I'm an aviator."

"A flying sailor. Much better." she rolled her eyes even as her gun remained trained on him.

Harm eyeballed her. She was anywhere between 5'7" to 5'10" (it was hard to gauge with her sitting down) and that dress, while not form fitting also didn't give her much wiggle room to hide any unsightly pounds.

She had silky blonde hair tied up into a neat bun and was definitely attractive enough to be a cosmetics model, though she actually was more attractive this way now with her face completely devoid of make up. She looked young - somewhere between her early to mid twenties and hardly a day older.

She was sizing him up similarly. 6'4", dark brown hair, ramrod straight posture marking him out as a military man. "You don't look like an assassin." she hazarded a guess.

"I hope not." he smiled and flashed his baby blues at her.

"Damn." she cursed again, but this time in appreciation. He was gorgeous, the kind where he was every woman's type.

"Do you mind if I put my hands down so we can talk?" Harm asked.

"Depends. You said Clay sent you. What did he say?"

"He said... I want you to get my wife back." before adding apprehensively, "And tell her I want a divorce."

For the first time she relaxed. A wide smile broke across her features as she put down the gun. "He really said that?"

"Yeah. But there was one other thing." Harm said as he put his hands down.

"And what's that?"

"He wants custody of the children."

"Damn." she cursed for the third time in rapid succession.

"Look, I've no idea what I've just said." Harm hoped her reaction wouldn't result in her aiming the gun at him again. Or pulling the trigger.

He was relieved when Angie put the gun away, hidden so quickly and completely Harm didn't even know where she had it stowed.

"Clay really didn't tell you anything about our code, did he?" she asked.

"He explained a couple of things."

Angie decided to improve his education, "The code is pretty simple. I'm his wife means..."

"He explained that."

"Okay. He wants a divorce means, after this mission, I get a break from the field."

"Right. And custody?"

Angie sighed a little heavier on that, "Custody of our children means I have to give him the list."

"Lagunov's list."

"Hmm... he must really trust you to tell you that much. Yes, Lagunov's list. But there's a problem with that."

"You don't know where it is."

"Oh no, I know where it is. I just don't know _where_ it is."

He cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"It's on this train. Somewhere." Angie explained, "Lagunov hid it. He didn't trust the retirement package the Agency was setting up for him, so he decided to provide a little extra insurance for himself."

Angie continued, "Once we got him back Stateside safe and sound, he'd mail us a copy of the list." Angie snorted at the irony, "Of course, he didn't take into account the FSB getting to him first."

Harm stared at her, "How can you be sure he hid it on the train?"

"It's on the train. Lagunov wouldn't risk sending it ahead to anybody, and he wouldn't risk carrying it on himself either."

Harm nodded. "So how are we going to find out where he hid it? We can't go about ripping the train apart." Harm said, as he looked around their room and noticed the slightly ripped seats. "Though, I can see you've tried."

"Lagunov only visited three rooms while he was alive. One, this one. Two, the private bathroom in suite, and three, the dining car."

"The dining car?" Harm asked.

"Yes, where we have our meals. Apparently room service does not exist." she said wryly.

"Could he have passed off the list to any of his contacts there for safe keeping?"

"Again, Lagunov had to have control of the list's location. Handing it to someone else would have negated that." Angie surmised, finally sounding like a spook. "What's your cover?"

"Cover?" Harm asked suddenly thrown by her change in subject.

"Your identity. Who are you to me?" Angie asked as she took a closer look at him. He really was good looking. Stunning in fact.

Harm pulled out his passport and read from it. "Mark Thomason."

"Really?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because I'm traveling as Maria Thomason. Guess that means you're my new husband." she gave Harm a dazzling smile. She added though, "But I gotta warn you hubby, we might not survive the honeymoon."

"Well, lucky me." Harm said in a tone that stated that he found it quite the opposite as he moved to stow his luggage. Just then, the train whistle blew and Harm felt the train start to move.

Harm saw that the scenery outside the window had begun to move as the train pulled out of the station. Harm also noticed Angela taking a seat before she notified him, "Oh, and I sleep on the left."

Harm glared at her and then at the bed behind him and then back at her. He caught her smile.

"Don't worry, sailor." she said with a wink, "You'll get used to it."

Harm wasn't sure what exactly he would have to get used to, but he had a feeling sleeping arrangements weren't all she meant.

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**

**AN:** Wouldn't mind reading what you think of the story so far. :)


	30. Ep 14: Bloodlines (Part 2)

**AN:** Hey everybody, thanks so much for your boss reviews. It's really cool and I really appreciate all the encouragement you guys give. And I'm glad you guys find it intriguing and exciting too. :) achaon - yeah this is an original fic/episode, but I'm hoping it has the makings of a good JAG episode.

But enough of me, I now return you to your irregularly scheduled program.

* * *

**Episode 14:  
**Bloodlines (Part 2)

1530 ZULU  
ROMANIAN ROYAL PALACE  
BUCHAREST, ROMANIA

Clay's bedroom was small by his usual standards, but it was well appointed. There was a four-poster bed big enough to share, a sizable built in wardrobe and an adequate desk to work from. That it looked time warped in 1970s kitsch ruined the entire effect, but Clay didn't really notice and hence, mind.

On the desk was a bulky black briefcase, opened to reveal high-tech plugs, switches and lights. There was a phone cradle inside the briefcase, one which the room's telephone was plugged into, creating the necessary secure line for Clay to call his bosses Stateside.

Clay waited for the line to connect. Three rings later and he wasn't disappointed.

"What is it, Spider?"

'Spider' Webb - Clay cringed at his codename. The geeks at HQ had taken to tormenting him with poor puns, probably in retaliation to the fact that Webb was so standoffish to the point of snobbery. The fact that his bosses also took so easily to having fun at his expense gave him pause.

"Good morning, KUBRICK." Clay said neutrally, keeping certain stresses and inflections from his voice to mask his true feelings.

"Your call makes it not a good morning. What's wrong?"

Clay recognized the voice - it was the Director of Central Intelligence himself - old Wyatt Garrison. The fact that his call had been transfered to his bosses boss directly was the equivalent of God asking him if he sinned today. It made him squirm uncomfortably and he might want to lie, but what was the point?

Clay quickly explained the situation, up to the point where he had sent Rabb in after their agent Angela Ward. He heard Garrison's sharp breath at mention of both their names.

"You're playing with fire forming attachments with your agents, Spider."

"Ward's one of our best while Rabb has proven to be effective at getting the job done."

"I'm not convinced sending Rabb in was a wise choice. Angie can hold her own, but he's a cloud jockey. We're not even sure if he's any good with side arms."

"He can handle it." Clay lied, unsure if he'd ever seen Harm use a handgun. "They'll be fine."

There was a brief moment of silence on the other end before Garrison's voice returned, this time not even bothering to hide his dissatisfaction. "There have been too many ripples, Spider. Don't think I haven't noticed that more and more of your operations are going sideways. Particularly whenever Rabb gets involved."

"I admit things haven't worked out as planned, but the results speak for themselves. We get a better outcome than we hope for most of the time."

"I'm not displeased with the outcome, Spider. I'm displeased that I'm hearing a lot of overseas chatter with your name attached to it."

"It's part of my role at the State Department. I'm just a bureaucrat to them..."

"No, you are your father's son to them, and your increasing profile may get you on 60 minutes, but it'll also puts you six feet under." Garrison growled. "I'm not sure if you appreciate just how much of a leash we've given you."

Clay heard the implied threat, "Enough to hang me?"

Garrison was quiet for a moment before his voice came back cool and controlled. "Not yet. But keep pulling and you'll find yourself dancing on very thin air."

"KUBRICK..." Clay used the CIA assigned codename to home base in addressing his employers, but was cut off.

"Spider, for your sake Angie better pull through." and the line went dead.

Clay stared at the phone a few seconds longer before packing the suitcase away. Pulling out his cellphone he sped dialed his assistant.

"Mr. Webb, how may I help you?"

"Melanie. Get me on the earliest flight to Paris."

oxoxoxo

Mac recounted the entire trial, including her feelings about defending CPO Holst and the extent to which she did her job. Matt listened, never interrupting even as he held her hand through the harder parts of her story. She finished and gave his hand a light squeeze.

"You tried your best, Sarah. That's more than the man deserved."

"Well, I didn't go about it very honorably."

"Considering your client was guilty, I think honor was the least of your worries. You did good."

Mac's expression softened, "Thanks Uncle Matt. I guess sometimes facing Harm, it's easy to forget that finding the truth and getting a win aren't always the same thing."

"Are you sad you lost?"

"I think I'm more disappointed that Harm was right. About everything." she admitted with a wry smirk.

"Everything?"

"He knew that I was treating Holst... like dad."

"Can't say I blame you." he stated sadly.

Mac nodded and continued, "But I also know that if I want to keep my sanity, I'll have to let him stop being such an influence on my life. That I'm not like him."

"You're nothing like Joe, Sarah." Matt said with a touch of panic, surprised that she would even think so.

"Sometimes even I believe that, Uncle Matt." she said sadly, letting go of his hand.

"And other times?"

"It's hard to not see him whenever I close my eyes."

"You dream of him?"

"It's not a dream if it actually happened, Uncle Matt." she said before clarifying, "They're memories."

"Which memories?"

Mac hesitated for a second, "Sometimes I'm six. Sometimes I'm sixteen. I don't know which one is worse, the one where I remember the sound of dad smacking mom around the house, or the one where I don't even remember where I am cause I'm so drunk."

"Do you still have the urge to drink?"

"No, not really. The smell though is nice." she said with a smile.

His expression soured, "It always is. Until the smell isn't enough."

The silence stretched out for a moment, settling like a gentle blanket of snow over everything - buried again, undisturbed, as if what lay beneath wasn't there anymore. Though it still was. Matt broke the silence.

"You know I'm proud of you, Sarah. You say you carry Joe with you on your back and you're right, you do. And you should."

Mac stared into her uncle's eyes, unsure if what he was saying was really a good thing. Matt pressed on.

"You should because knowing what your father did when he was drunk is sometimes the only thing that will keep you from taking another drink yourself."

"Great. A cautionary tale." Mac replied.

"Sarah, that's what makes you different from your father. He couldn't beat his demons. You face them everyday and you choose not to give in to them. That's why you're better than Joe MacKenzie could ever hope to be. Hell, you're better than all of us."

"Us?"

"Joe, your mother, even Harm. Even me."

"How? I wake up most mornings just glad that I went to bed sober."

Matt smiled kindly at his niece. "That's more than I can say for most of the human race."

"I just wish I could let go of the anger, Uncle Matt. I'm just so angry at everyone."

"Even me?"

"No, of course not."

"Well you should be Sarah. Because I failed you just as badly as your parents."

Mac stared at him wide-eyed. "You saved me. You were there when I needed you most."

"I also failed you." Matt said firmly. Mac cocked her head at him, unsure how he did. "I helped your mother leave you behind."

Mac's eyes widened in shock.

oxoxoxo

Mac looked on the verge of panic. "You asked mom to leave me behind?"

"No, of course not."

"Then...?"

"I gave your mother the money so she could leave Joe. I even gave her enough to fly the both of you to Europe where I was stationed."

"Mom went to Europe?"

"No, she didn't, at least not that I know. She never contacted me, she just dropped off the face of the earth, but that was usual for your mom. Four postcards one month followed by nothing for a whole year. It wasn't until I came back about a year later when I realized she had left the bastard. But she hadn't taken you with her."

Mac's mind struggled to piece together that time period. "A year? You mean when I was sixteen?"

Matt nodded. Mac grew angry when she remembered what 16 had been like for her. "You came back but you didn't do anything. You left me with that monster!" she growled.

"I had to Sarah. You were still considered a minor. If I had taken you, all Joe had to do was call the cops and they'd return you to him. And throw me in jail."

"So you watched as I screwed up my life? As I got drunk and... god." Mac couldn't believe it. Her uncle had let her suffer that way.

"I didn't watch you do anything. I reached out, remember?"

"When? When Eddie died?" Mac bit out angrily.

"Before then. When you were with that other boy."

"What other boy?"

"The one before Eddie." When he saw her truly not remember, he provided the answer, "Chris."

Mac grew pale at hearing that name, "Chris?"

"I tried to get you to leave him. But you said you loved him."

Mac was horrified. Once more the stupidity of her youth had caused her so much pain. She could have saved herself so much agony... "How could I have been so stupid?"

"It's not your fault Sarah." Matt said as he reached for her.

"Why not? He turned out to be every bit of the man dad was."

Matt froze. "He hit you?"

"Just once."

Fury exploded in his chest. "That's once too much. Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's okay, Uncle Matt. He got his."

"You called the cops on him?"

"Better. I called Eddie."

Matt stared at her, more than a little confused, so she elaborated. "Eddie smacked Chris around pretty good, well enough to get him to leave me alone permanently. Eddie also made me see it wasn't my fault." Mac said softly, before admitting sadly. "I think Eddie would have killed Chris if I let him."

"I can't say I don't understand the feeling, Sarah. But Eddie wasn't the best influence."

"No, he wasn't." Mac could admit that easily now. "But he never hurt me. Not physically anyway."

"Maybe if... if I hadn't given your mother the money, she wouldn't have been tempted to run. Maybe she could have stayed... for you." Matt said, guilt consuming him once more.

"It's not your fault, Uncle Matt. I guess mom just couldn't take it anymore and felt I would only slow her down. You didn't ask her to leave me behind."

"It doesn't change the fact that she did. And I let it happen."

"You were stationed overseas." Mac tried to change the subject. "London right?"

Matt didn't bite, "I was stationed overseas because I asked for it, Sarah. I was running away from my own problems."

"You didn't run away." Mac said quietly.

"But I did, Sarah. When I got back from 'Nam, I was in a bad way. I was alive, I was able-bodied... but I wasn't whole. A part of me stayed in that jungle, Sarah. A part of me still does."

Mac stared at her uncle. He had never shared with her his experiences in Indochina before, and she admitted guiltily, she had never asked. She let him continue.

"My job was to deliver troops and supplies into the heart of hell. Young boys we called soldiers, some barely old enough to know how to drive. We just dropped them in the middle of a shit storm of bullets and mortar fire and expected them to survive. And not think about how many wouldn't. Some of them were barely out of the helo before meeting their makers."

"Then there were the missions to fly them out. Occasionally they'd be fine, we get orders to pick up twenty of them and most of them were there. Sometimes, quite literally only most of them were there for us to pick up. The screaming whenever they couldn't feel their legs cause it was lying in a ditch someplace four miles back. The begging for us to kill them so their pain would stop."

Matt shook off the memory, determined to not wallow in his own personal hell. "Laura couldn't deal with it, so she left me. I don't blame her, I couldn't deal with it either. When I got back home, I couldn't adapt. I couldn't take the guilt of coming back a hero when I was responsible for sending so many boys to their death in the first place."

"It's not your fault."

"It doesn't mean I didn't play a part. Even if I didn't hurt those boys, I placed them in danger, left them to fend for themselves - just like how I did with you and your mom."

Matt saw another piece of his niece's world crumble. Everything she thought she knew was changing, shifting. Matt hated to do it, but he needed her to see he wasn't this hero she had made him up to be in her mind.

He needed her to see that in all this, the only true hero here was her.

oxoxoxo

1650 ZULU  
TRANS-EUROPEAN EXPRESS  
SOMEWHERE NEAR POLAND

Sundown came suddenly upon the Trans-European Express as it chugged along the track. The lone headlight of the locomotive scythed through the dark. It was the only source of illumination for miles.

Inside the private cabin he shared with the beautiful blonde CIA operative Angela Ward, Harm was checking his reflection in the mirror as he put on his tie. When he heard Angela call for his help behind him.

"Zip me up?"

Harm turned around to see that she was dressed in a very nice and tasteful golden-yellow dress - not too flashy or elaborate, but undeniably attractive on her. She had her back turned to him. The zipper of the dress was halfway up but the unzipped portion revealed beautiful, smooth and surprisingly suntanned skin. 'Somebody's found time at the beach recently.' he thought with a smile.

Harm, ever the gentleman, stepped up to help her zip up. He also took this opportunity to ask her a couple of questions, "So what exactly does Lagunov's list look like?"

"I wish I knew." Angela said as she felt Harm move the zipper upwards.

"You don't know?"

"I know what it contains. I don't know what shape or form it comes in." she said as she stepped away from Harm to check her appearance in the mirror.

"Well that's helpful." Harm said, not entirely sure how it was.

"All I know is it's probably not very big. No bigger than a book."

"So that narrows it down." Harm said with a hint of relief in his voice.

"Of course it could be no bigger than a microdot." Angie said with a shrug. Harm hoped not - a microdot was really as small as its name suggested.

"So we don't know what we're looking for and we don't know where to find it?"

"And we have less than 26 hours to find it."

Harm's face blanched, "26 hours? Why?"

"Because we reach Paris at that point, and everyone gets off the train. If we haven't found the list by then, we never will."

"Great. So what now?" Harm asked.

Angela adjusted his uneven tie, fixing it for him. "Now, Mr. Thomason takes his wife to dinner." she said smiling up at him. 'And who knows, if you play your cards right, sailor, you might even get lucky."

Harm arched an eyebrow at her and her blatant proposition. She grinned, "We might even find the list."

For a second, Harm wasn't sure if Angela was all that motivated to find the list because she played it too cool. But he had no choice but to trust her - after all, she was the only one who remotely knew what they were looking for. And he needed her to find that list - the one with all the names of US pilots shot down in Vietnam and shipped to the Soviet Union.

The list that maybe revealed where his father was all these years. The list that would help him find his dad, and finally bring him home.

oxoxoxo

Harm hadn't realized that there were two dining cars, one which served the rest of the train, and the one they were in, the one that only served the luxury cabins, complete with caviar and champagne. It was a symbolic representation of both ends of this line with Russia's and France's finest exports.

The dining car was decorated to recreate the height of 1920s luxury with art deco influences everywhere. Harm was dressed in a dark suit and while he looked sharp, he was also slightly underdressed for the room. No matter, as all eyes were drawn instead to his 'wife'.

Angela was stunning in her dress that captured the exuberance of the pre-crash 1920s. With her East European accent now firmly in place, she played up the three parts of her cover personality. She was shy and therefore young, beautiful and therefore desirable, and stupid therefore harmless.

So harmless, that people spoke freely and easily in front of her - after all she was too stupid to understand. And therefore she was way too stupid to be a spy.

Harm hid his smile behind a champagne flute as he compared just how different Angie and her operations chief Clayton Webb were. Clay was a child of the shadows - almost craved it with his cloak and dagger play. Angie on the other hand was a creature of the light - reveling in the attention all the while actually loosening lips with complete ease.

Dinner was served shortly after their arrival and in comparison to the lavish setting, was a huge letdown - but it didn't seem like anyone was too bothered by it, for few if any of them were actually here for the cuisine. The meals were sparingly eaten and never mentioned again as the champagne continued flowing freely.

Harm noticed that most of the guests were jovial, happy and this far away from Moscow, very critical of the communist way of life and the KGB watchdogs that enforced it for so long. But none knew Lagunov, and were no help for the search of the list. Harm though did notice that Angie had a way of blending into the background as effectively as standing out in a crowd. He didn't even realize she was by his side until she spoke, providing updates on her search.

"The German at two o'clock. Think you can distract him a bit?" she asked quietly.

Harm saw the man in question - thin, gaunt and a face that looked like it belonged in an aquarium.

"Yeah. Why?" Harm whispered back.

"Kinda hard to snoop with him trying to play grab ass every five seconds, hubby." she said before flitting away once more.

Harm approached the man and learned the man's name - Helmut Langer. The man himself was pleasant enough, but his view towards women veered towards the primeval. Harm had to keep from decking the man whenever he spoke about women.

It was almost nine by the time the dining car finally started to clear. Everyone bid their noisy adieus or au revoirs, soon leaving only Harm and Angie, and a few other stragglers. Harm felt Angie's arm loop around his and pull him away from the dining room. Surprised but recovering quickly, Harm followed.

Once they were alone, Harm leaned in closer to Angie. "So what did you learn?"

"You mean aside from how to get drilling rights to Russian oil?" she whispered back, "The list isn't in the dining room."

"How do you know?"

"Too many eyes, too much movement and nothing is nailed down, except for the paintings which are. He couldn't have snuck it on anything."

"So where next?" Harm asked just as a seamstress exited one of the luxury cabins - obviously called in for some late night mending. Angie pressed herself against her 'husband'.

"Our bedroom, my love." she said for the benefit of the help, taking his hand in hers and pulling him along.

As Harm unlocked their cabin door, Angie felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Sensing someone's eyes on them she turned to find... Helmut Langer staring at them. But just as quickly he averted his eyes, seemingly engrossed in whatever activity that now had his attention.

Angie couldn't help but feel a little threatened by the man - he was a creep and he obviously had eyes for her. Perhaps a grand show of the guy she was with might dissuade his advances. Angie quickly pushed herself up against Harm, "Hurry husband." she said a little louder than necessary much to Harm's surprise. He looked to protest but she pulled him in to a passionate kiss as she backed him in to their cabin.

Once their privacy was secure Angie broke off the kiss. Harm though was a little dazed, "What..."

"Helmut followed us. He creeps me out." she said with a shudder before turning to him. "Sorry about the kiss. I was hoping it'd turn him off."

Harm touched his lips lightly, "Well, glad I could assist." he said before returning to more pressing matters. "So what next? If Lagunov didn't hide the list in any of the rooms he's been in, where could he have hidden it?"

"Search me."

"Maybe he..."

"No, Harm. Search me."

"What?"

Angie started emptying out her bags and checking the suitcases she brought onboard the train. "I just realized that I only searched his stuff. But if I wanted to smuggle something aboard, why carry it on yourself when you have someone else with you? He knew he'd be searched by our guys anyway, but no one would lay their hands on me!"

She went through all her bags first and when she came out empty handed, went through her clothes, turning out pockets and ripping any seam that looked like a suitable hiding place.

Twenty minutes later, she had only a suitcase of ruined clothes to show for her efforts. "Damn it." she cursed. "I was so sure."

Harm though was a little distracted by the luggage tag on her bag. It felt slightly thicker than those of other bags, including those on Lagunov's or his own.

She noticed his mystified expression, "You find something?"

He handed her the tags. "Feel this."

It took her a few seconds before she realized what he was talking about. Her luggage tag was backed by an additional card making it slightly thicker than the norm. She brought it to the light and found a thin line where it had been glued on with expert care. She carefully peeled back the layer and saw the tiny microdot stuck there. They found the list!

She turned to Harm, "I could kiss you."

"Again?" he asked with a grin.

"Again. But maybe later." she said as she quickly mended the card. "Now all we have to do is make it to Paris and we're home free."

oxoxoxo

1820 ZULU  
CHARLES DE GAULLE AIRPORT  
PARIS, FRANCE

Travelers from every corner of the globe packed the airport, turning the ensuing taxi line outside into a veritable traffic jam of baggage trolleys, confused map reading tourists and angry sweaty cab drivers.

Paris at any time was a popular destination, but summer somehow made Paris irresistible - ironic as most Parisians who could afford it, would choose to abandon the madness of their home city for the quieter beaches up and down the coast.

Armed with perfect French and a slight disdain for everything around him that almost made him seem native, Clayton Webb stepped out of the terminal pushing his cart in search for his transport.

He found a limo driver holding a placard with his cover name on it - Robert Giroud. Stepping up to the gaunt man in a chauffeur's uniform, Clay addressed him in fluent French.

"Where's the car?" Clay asked the driver, who looked at him, at the card and back at him once more.

"Monsieur Giroud?" the chauffeur asked, unsure.

"Would I be talking to you if I wasn't? Let's get a move on." Clay ordered impatiently.

Cowed by Clay's derisive tone, the chauffeur took the CIA man's lone suitcase and led the way to a black limousine. Clay had to admit there was a thrill that came with working the field, especially when coupled with the jet-setting lifestyle that came with the territory.

With his suitcase stowed in the trunk, Clay got into the car. He was so preoccupied with the luxury of it all that he didn't notice that he wasn't alone in it.

"Hello, Clayton."

Clay tensed and instantly pulled on the door handle to get out, only to find the child lock engaged and him trapped.

"Please, let's try for decorum and not act like children shall we?"

Suppressing his initial urge to run, Clay started to observe things. Most notably the undeniably Oxford accent that the speaker had. Clay searched his memory banks for anyone he'd met with a similar accent. None came readily to mind.

"I don't think I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance." As Clay's eyes readjusted to the dark he made out the man's features. He had an aquiline nose giving him a distinguished, almost aloof air. The man looked to be in his 70s and his jet black hair was obviously a product of a hairdresser's bottle. It was trimmed neat, though he sported sideburns that even Elvis would have been proud of.

"That's disappointing, my boy." The man in the dark said while nursing a scotch from the inbuilt minibar. "Are you sure you don't remember?"

Clay let his eyes adjust more and more to the gloom. He noticed that the car was already moving through French traffic. Sunlight filtered in occasionally through the dark tint of the windows, not enough to fall on the man's face but enough to light various other parts - such as his hands... and the ring on his finger.

Clay would recognize the ring anywhere. A skull and bones ring from Yale.

"You're a friend of the Agency."

The man laughed at the very idea, "No. That's like going to bed with a pit of vipers. But I am a friend of your mother." the man said as he leaned forward out of the shadows to reveal his aged face, weathered from years of alcohol and exposure to the elements.

Clay would know that face anywhere. After all, you didn't forget the man who often spent more nights looking after you than your own parents did.

"General Adrik Ivanov."

"I'm not a general anymore."

"Then why are you here if not on official business?"

"I'm here to ask you for a favor."

"Which is?"

"Stop looking for Lagunov's list."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Clay lied smoothly.

Ivanov nodded, as if half expecting that answer. "I almost believed you there, Clayton. You're getting better at this."

"Look Ivanov, I don't have time for games. Now let me out at the US Embassy and I'll forget I even saw you here."

"Is that how you talk to the man who raised you as a son?"

"You're not my father."

"Does your mother say that?"

Clay felt his blood chill. "What's my mother got to do with this?"

"About as much as Neville Webb has to do with you. After all, he wasn't there the night you were conceived." Ivanov looked Clay in the eye. "But I was."

Webb's couldn't keep the horror from his face.

oxoxoxo

"Excuse me, are you okay?"

Mac realized someone was addressing her and she turned around to see a man in his mid-30s wearing an expensive suit staring at her. She was at the door of her rental car, key in hand while she had been lost in thought.

In the background barbed wire fences twenty feet tall and electric gates loomed. Mac found she was standing in the parking lot of Fort Leavenworth, getting ready to leave.

"Are you okay?" the man repeated, looking at her with concern.

"Yeah, sorry. Daydreaming I guess." she said, a little dazed from her visit with Uncle Matt, and a lot affected. She showed him a smile, enough to ease his concern while careful to not give him an idea that she was interested in him.

And it wasn't her fault that any smile she gave had such a strong effect on men. To the man in front of her, she was the most gorgeous creature he had ever laid eyes on, even with the sadness etched on her face. He decided to give his name, if nothing else to at least gain hers. "Hi, Dalton Lowne." he stuck out his hand, hoping she wouldn't shy from his contact.

She grabbed the proffered hand and shook it. "Sarah MacKenzie."

"You looked pretty lost in thought right there." he said, hoping to ease the tension.

Mac realized she had lost about four minutes and twenty seven seconds, but she wasn't about to admit that to the sharp suit. "Yeah. Lost is right."

"You're visiting someone?" Dalton asked, hoping she didn't say husband.

"Yeah. My uncle."

His smile grew brighter at that. He decided to turn on his charm. "You know, if you feel up to it, we could get coffee to clear your mind until you're ready to drive back. I know a great coffee stop just down the road."

Mac studied the man in front of her in detail. He wasn't short - about 5'10" or 5'11". He wasn't bad looking - he had an easy smile and kind eyes that she imagined served him well on the singles scene. And judging by the fit of the very expensive suit he wore, he wasn't out of money or out of shape either.

His attention was flattering, but she was not in the mood to get to know him better. It wasn't his fault that he wasn't the person she wanted right now. He wasn't Harm.

"Sorry, but I've got a flight to catch."

His smile faltered but what could he do, he could hardly jump her and ask her to board his firm's private jet. There were women where that trick might have worked but Sarah MacKenzie didn't look like one of those women.

"Where are you heading back to?"

Mac knew enough to not entertain such questions. They were standing in front of a federal prison and while he may wear expensive jackets, it didn't mean that the man in front of her hadn't just traded up from an orange prison suit.

"Home. Goodbye, Mr. Lowne."

She got in the car, turned the ignition and closed the door.

Dalton Lowne continued watching as the most beautiful woman he knew drove away. It was scant consolation, but at least he had her name so there was that.

oxoxoxo

Harm and Angie lay on the bed, each keeping to their side. Both though were still up, staring at the ceiling.

"Can't sleep?" Harm asked as he rolled over to face her.

She propped herself up on her elbow and turned to him. "Neither can you."

"Yeah." he chuckled. "Guess I'm kinda excited that we found the list." Harm admitted. All they'd have to do was get it back to D.C. and they'd read the microdot to see if his father was in Russia.

A similar thought must have been pinging in Angie's head as she asked. "Did you know what they called the train that took the American POWs to Siberia?"

"No."

She stared into his eyes. "They called it the Blood Line, seeing how most of the prisoners were covered in cuts and bruises after ejecting from their planes. Maybe even after torture at the hands of the NVA."

Harm's mouth thin into a line. He tried not to think about the horrors his father must have faced. He changed the subject.

"Why did you join the CIA?"

She smiled kindly at him. "I don't know what you mean. I work for the State Department."

Harm nodded his understanding with a smile of his own. "Why the State Department then?"

"I could ask the same of you."

"I'm not with the Company."

"But you're here just the same."

"You know, you would have made a fine lawyer." Harm shot her a flyboy grin.

Angie really had to admit he was good looking. "So how did Clay con you into this mission?" she asked.

"What makes you think he conned me?"

"I don't think the Navy sends in airjocks to take over trains. They usually use the Marines for that."

"Yeah, well he was stuck with me. I'm sure Clay would have loved to send in Mac otherwise."

"Mac?"

"My partner at JAG."

"JAG?"

"Judge Advocate General's Corps."

"I thought you were a pilot."

"Aviator." Harm corrected, "And a lawyer."

"Get bored with just one career?"

"Something like that. So Clay's your boss?"

Angie laughed. "No, not even close. He's sorta like... like that guy who waves the little paddles telling planes where to go so we don't crash into things."

Harm laughed at the description. Angie tucked a stray strand of blonde hair back behind her ear and looked at him. They stared at each other for a moment, each keenly aware that the other was very attractive. But were they attracted to each other?

"So you're close to Clay?" Harm asked, trying to get his mind off asking her for that kiss she owed him.

Angie worried her bottom lip before admitting, "He helped me get this job."

"He recruited you?" Harm asked, surprised.

But he was even more surprised by her answer.

"You could say that. Considering he saved my life."

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**

**AN:** How's my writing? Call 1-800-BADWORD... or just write a review and let me know. :D Thanks.


	31. Ep 14: Bloodlines (Part 3)

**AN:** Hey everybody, thanks for the really cool feedback once again!

Uh-oh. You see, I didn't know you guys actually missed Harm & Mac's interaction (I know, I know, bad shipper), but I wrote this entire episode with them being apart (except for the end).

I admit it was a bit of a gamble on my part to write this story this way - but I wanted to see how it would be like if Harm & Mac had separate storylines revolving around a central theme. (Clay's storyline this ep revolves around that theme too).

I think we can all agree, as cool as that idea is, H&M together is so much better. :) So note to self, more H&M together adventures, less H&M separate adventures. :)

See, feedback. It works!

And now on to the rest of the episode.

* * *

**Episode 14:  
Bloodlines (Part 3)**

1830 ZULU  
PARIS, FRANCE

Clay glared at Ivanov as horror faded and rage made its presence felt.

"You're lying."

"That I'm your father or that your mother and I were lovers..."

Clay launched himself across the gap to throttle the old man, but felt the hard edge of a handgun jam into his ribs. Any harder and Clay would have a cracked rib to nurse.

"Don't make me ruin the interior of the car, Clayton." Ivanov said his voice revealing nerves of steel and an ice cold brutality. Ivanov was a killer, one who had done it far too often to ever get out of practice.

"Now what would you like to drink, son?" Ivanov baited the State Department man. Clay remained tight lipped.

"Very mature there, giving me the silent treatment. No matter, I'll make conversation for the both of us." Ivanov helped himself to another scotch. He bit back a nip. 'Lagunov is dead, his list is in the wind. Your agent is probably searching for it as we speak, but we both know that Lagunov wasn't a trustworthy man. For all we know this list doesn't even exist."

"If so, then why have him killed?"

"Ah, he speaks. But you wound me, Clay. I did not kill Lagunov."

"No, you just informed the FSB where he'd be and they did the rest."

Ivanov didn't exactly deny it. "Now why would I do that? I am in the employ of Her Majesty the Queen. Just because I am Russian by heritage doesn't mean I am Russian in loyalty. Your father knew that, as did your mother."

"Then why are you so intent on stopping us from getting the list?"

"Are you so short-sighted Clay?" Ivanov said with a shake of his head. "Think, young man, think! The Cold War is over. What possible value will reopening old wounds bring to our new world?"

"We'll return American soldiers to their families. We'll give them closure."

"And you risk sparking anti-Russian sentiment across the globe to do it?! You Americans are so sentimental. What do you think will happen if Russia ever feels like its being pushed around?"

Clay was silent, Ivanov answered anyway. "They'll push back. And I hate to remind you Clay but not all of the Red Army has embraced _perestroika_. Not with 30,000 nuclear missiles still lying in bunkers, ready for a single madman to decide the world needs to fear Mother Russia once more."

"Spare me the rhetoric Ivanov. We both know what this is really about." Clay said as he leaned back in his seat, all the while trying not to rub his aching ribs. "It's about Russian oil. Without communism, Europe gets access to billions of gallons of gasoline... and a way to keep oil prices in check."

"Well, I can't deny that's a healthy side effect of an undivided Europe." Ivanov said mirthlessly.

"So you're willing to let thousands of people suffer for the sake of saving a few cents at the gas pump?"

"Far more people have suffered for far less."

"We're the ones who are supposed to prevent the suffering!"

"Neville would have understood. So would Porter."

"My parents would have stopped you."

"You forget something Clay, I actually know them. And they weren't always rich."

oxoxoxo

0000 ZULU  
MAC'S APARTMENT  
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Mac arrived in D.C. just a little over an hour ago, 64 minutes and 33 seconds to be exact, not that she was keeping track. When she walked in the door to her apartment, she had been tempted to get in a hot bath but road weary as she was, she didn't want to take the chance of falling asleep in her tub and waking up chilled.

So a quick and blisteringly hot shower later, she felt refreshed enough to tackle dinner. She had played with the idea of takeout but the idea of waiting 30 minutes for a delivery quickly lost to the need for immediate sustenance. Thank god for TV dinners.

It all led to Mac standing in her kitchen, her eyes staring at the microwave as it heated up her dinner as if transfixed by the the warm yellow glow shining through the glass. Physically she was there but mentally...

Mac was back in the visitation room with her Uncle Matt.

oxoxoxo

Matt stared at a spot on the table, unable to lift his gaze to look at his niece. "When you were six or seven, I... I visited your mother."

Mac hadn't heard this story before. She looked at her uncle with stunned silence.

"You were at school. First grade, I remember, so you weren't home. Joe was on duty so neither was he. It was just me and Deanne. She was so cheery... now I know it was all an act, but at that time... it made me hate her."

Matt continued, "I envied that she had a beautiful child, something Laura never gave me. I envied that she had a home, a place where she didn't know the horrors of war. I envied that she had a loving husband!"

"I said that to her and she... didn't say anything. It must have been like a slap to her face, me voicing out all my anger and bitterness at how my life didn't turn out fair when hers was worse."

"When did you find out?" Mac asked her uncle, unnecessary to complete the thought - 'when he was beating her.'

"... Your friend Eddie told me."

Mac's eyes bulged. "What?"

"He wrote a letter and slipped it inside one of Deanne's cards to me. I didn't believe him. I... I thought that it might have been a mistake. Or a bad joke."

"But it wasn't."

"No. But then I transfered to Europe and you know the rest. If only I had acted sooner, I could have spared you all the heartache."

Mac remembered all the shouting, the fear, the sleepless nights. And every mistake she had made. Drinking had been bad, but escaping her father by running off with Chris was worse. And now the one man she looked up to more than anyone in the world was telling her that he could have saved her... if he only bothered to check.

Mac was surprised by her own words. "Maybe, Uncle Matt. Maybe you should be sorry."

Matt's face crumbled.

oxoxoxo

The constant beep from the microwave cut through her thoughts and returned her to the present. She felt warm tears roll down her cheeks and she reached up to touch them, surprised that they were even there.

She brushed the droplets away and with shaky hands took out the meal from the microwave and set it on the counter.

And then she got her coat and keys. She was sure she was making a mistake leaving, but she couldn't stay here. Not tonight.

She opened her door and left.

oxoxoxo

Mac's jeep was a beat-up clunker that had seen many better days, though most of them had been with the previous owner. It had been the vehicle she 'inherited' from the Marine Lieutenant Colonel she had replaced in Marine Barracks Washington, and since she was driving it almost a full year later with little to no maintenance issues, was possibly the best $200 she had ever spent.

Despite the exterior, the jeep had a hell of an engine. Mac though decided that putting it through it's paces on slick city streets was possibly not in her best interest. Though she was tempted.

She hadn't realized that it had even rained tonight - it must have come as quickly as it had gone, drenching the city without cleaning it. Rain also had a strange effect on D.C. traffic, making drivers so extra cautious to the point of ineptitude.

Caught up in traffic again, the drive to her destination gave her too much time to think. And once more her memories fell back to her heart-to-heart with Uncle Matt.

oxoxoxo

"Why did you come home when you did, Uncle Matt?" she asked.

Matt looked uncomfortable discussing it, but he decided no more lies. "Joe called."

Mac was surprised. Her father had called her uncle to save her?

"He wanted me to find your mother."

"Oh." She knew it was too good to be true.

"He told me you were... gone too."

"He said it in those words?"

"No. He said you were rebellious."

"Those weren't the words he used either, were they?"

Matt swallowed hard. He swore he would never say the words Joe used, even in anger.

"Let me guess. He called me his little whore of a daughter." At his surprised look, "It wasn't anything he didn't say to me already. You have to give him credit for that, Joe MacKenzie didn't say anything behind your back he didn't say first to your face."

"I should have beat the living tar out of him when I had the chance."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I was scared he would then take it out on you."

She knew he was right in thinking that. But it didn't change the fact that she wished he would have at least tried.

"Leaving you with him was the second hardest thing I've ever had to do." Matt said.

Mac was stunned, "What was harder?"

"Leaving you with Chris." and Mac's heart broke a little more with that admission.

Now she could see that Uncle Matt had always tried to look out for her. Even when she turned him away, the checks, his checks, kept coming in the mail - enough to buy food, though it rarely did.

When the checks stopped coming and the groceries started, Mac had tried to make a go of it. Of course, Chris felt that she was holding out on her and lost his temper. He never hit her except that one time, but he was every bit as abusive leading up to it. He controlled her with sex and words. She had become a slave to his approval because she was a child and he was the only one who said he loved her.

It was a common pattern in her life - the need of approval from men who told her they cared for her. Eddie, Uncle Matt, Chris, Harm...

She stopped at that thought. That was it, Harm was just a continuation of the pattern. She was repeating all the same mistakes. Eddie died and Harm was so much like Eddie it hurt to think about it.

Harm was reckless, he was strong, he was beautiful - everything Eddie was to her. And Mac knew she was falling for him.

oxoxoxo

Mac slid the key into the lock and entered the now familiar room. She'd been there often enough over the past two weeks to know it like the back of her hand. She rarely disturbed anything, she just spent hours sitting on his bed working on some case files from the office.

She went to his bedroom and sat down on the bed. His bed. It remained made, though in reality she had remade it recently after she found herself sleeping in it one night. Her head fell on his pillow and took a deep breath. His scent was beginning to fade, the scent of his shampoo, the scent of his soap and deodorant and aftershave. Two weeks was too long.

She knew it was a mistake to come here to his apartment. He was 4,898 miles away negotiating a NATO base and here she was, missing him, wanting him, in love with him.

No part of her took joy in that admission. She cursed it instead, cursed it because here she was, ten years later and no better than her teenaged self. She was making all the same mistakes again, wanting someone she couldn't have.

All because he said a few kind words and melted her heart with his smile. That he had taken care of her when she was injured, had shown concern for her even after she healed, cared enough to talk to her, strong enough to make her face her issues and brave enough to admit his guilt at making her hurt.

In essence, he was her kryptonite. He was every bit the hero his medals and commendations made him out to be. She was powerless against him, and the harder she resisted, the harder she fought to deny her feelings, the stronger his hold on her had become.

Even now, she was in his bed. She wondered if he hadn't been in Romania if she would be here now. With him.

She probably would have. She probably would have made love to him and then in the morning ask for a transfer. She would love him and then run away. Because there was no way he would ever love her back.

Mac rose from the bed and walked back out to the living room. He had finally completed it a few days before he was due to leave for Romania so in reality, she had probably enjoyed his apartment more than he did. She admired the craftsmanship of his work - the kitchen she noted with some joy followed a similar configuration as hers, making her feel even more at home.

Her stomach growled and she realized that she had left dinner at home cooling on the kitchen counter. Well, she remembered even though 'Mr. Practically A Vegetarian' frowned on junk food, he also had a stash of coffee flavored chocolate bars that doubled as energy bars - useful for the infamous all-nighters he pulled perfecting his closing arguments.

She searched the cabinets, coming up empty each time until she found the last thing she needed. She pulled it out and cradled it.

18-year old bourbon, half empty. Unfortunately that also meant half full.

The rich golden brown color called to her, as did the smooth bottle - the feel of it made her fingertips tingle and her mouth quiver. Just a sniff, that's all she needed, just to reduce the temptation. A sniff would make it all okay - the memory of the golden liquid burning through her throat would come back and that would be enough to make her stop.

She uncapped the bottle and took a whiff. It was as good as she remembered, that warming glow she felt as the aroma filled her senses. A second hit brought even more joy - if filled her very being as if papering over the cracks.

But it was a shame to expose the entire bottle to the air. No, she didn't want to waste Harm's bourbon. She'll pour out a little into a glass, just enough to savor the smell. She found the glass in one of the drawers and dashed a splash of bourbon in it. Just a little more to make the color come alive in the glass. And a little more to make it dance.

She set the bottle down on the countertop and stared at the glass. She lifted it slowly to sniff the sweet heady concoction. So close to her face, so close to her mouth, she could almost taste it. Her hands trembled as her lips licked in anticipation.

oxoxoxo

"Clay saved your life?"

"It was a long time ago. Almost another lifetime ago." Angie said as she rose from bed. She was wearing one of Harm's shirts considering how most of her own clothes now lay ruined. She walked over to the bathroom to splash water on her face. "And no I don't feel like sharing."

Harm gave her a cocky playful grin, "I could always get Clay to talk."

Angie answered wearily, "You could try. And if you do, congratulations."

A yawn got the better of Harm. Angie grinned at him, "What's the matter sailor, past your bedtime?"

"Yeah, but I'm too on edge to actually sleep." he grinned back sleepily.

"Join the club. It's especially bad when you're on a mission. It's not like you could do all the things that make you sleep back home." she said as she climbed back into bed.

"What do you usually do to fall asleep?"

"The usual. Warm milk, old movies, sex."

Harm did a double take, suddenly wide awake. He stared at her.

She laughed at his concerned expression, "Don't worry, I'm not planning to jump your bones. Wouldn't want to make things awkward between you and the Mrs."

Harm frowned, "I'm not married."

"Really?" she asked, growing curiouser and curiouser. "So you're content with just being an international playboy?"

His face split into a sheepish grin. "You say that like its a bad thing."

His answer only confirmed her suspicions. "Who was she?"

"Who was who?"

"The woman who broke your heart."

"What makes you think my heart's broken?"

"Takes one to know one." she said in all seriousness, making him similarly serious.

"Clay?"

"Oh god no."

"Anyone I know?"

"For your sake, I hope not." she said rather sadly.

"He's that bad?"

"Oh no, he's that good. You won't know what hit you until you're holding your brains in your hands."

Harm looked at her worriedly. "I sure hope he's one of the good guys."

"He's not. But he is one of ours." she said. "And once upon a time he used to be one of yours."

"Navy?"

"SEAL." she confirmed.

There was a knock at the door, startling both of them. Angie was up in a flash, grabbing her gun from the nightstand. She motioned Harm to the door as she stood back to provide him cover. Harm called out in a slightly gruff voice. "Who is it?"

There was no answer. He pulled open the door to find...

The seamstress with a couple of Angie's dresses and pants suits. Harm and Angie powered down. Accepting the clothes, Harm thanked the old woman and locked the door after she left.

"Well, at least I can have my shirt back in the morning." Harm said with a smile as Angie inspected her clothes. When there was another knock on the door. Harm answered it, curious as to why the seamstress would return.

He opened the door and was surprised. It wasn't the seamstress, but Helmut Langer. And he wasn't happy to see him - he really had a gun in his hand.

oxoxoxo

Clay sat at the dining table across from a burly guard. The guard was obviously Russian - vodka with supper was almost sacrilege here in Paris.

The large man obviously enjoyed his red meat, the steak was suitably large enough to satisfy him and the man was not the slightest bit impressed by the chef's need to serve it with garnish.

The guard was distracted by his steak. Unfortunately the guard wasn't alone. Clay had two other watchdogs, hired thugs - Ivanov wouldn't risk dragging his own men into this. _'Too much heroism to effectively follow orders.' _as he liked to complain about them - and Clay couldn't help but understand the complaint now that he had met Harmon Rabb Jr.

Clay had his hands bound behind his back as he sat. Even though he didn't look like a field agent, Ivanov also wasn't about to take chances. Ivanov though opted not to gag him, and that was his first mistake.

"Where's your boss?" Clay asked in effective, if not eloquent Russian.

The Russian glanced at him and ignored him in the same breath. He hadn't been paid for conversation so was not about to become drawn into one.

Ivanov had left the suite about an hour ago. Clay knew that the former MI6 agent, though dangerous was also in his twilight years. At one time or another Ivanov might have easily gone 96 hours straight without losing a step, but those days were long past. He was no doubt holed up in a corner someplace, catching some much needed rest.

"I need to use the bathroom." Clay said in his usual irritated tone, but in Russian.

The steak eating Russian looked up from his meal, annoyed at the constant interruption. Agitated, he motioned with the knife for his colleagues to escort the CIA man about his business. Clay was dragged to his feet and unceremoniously pushed towards the bathroom by one of the thugs.

Once outside the bathroom, the thug loosened Clay's bonds before immediately stepping back and pointed the gun at Clay's face. He motioned wordlessly for Clay to get on with it. Clay nodded, entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

That more than anything was the biggest mistake the thug could have made. He let Clay have privacy.

Locking the door, Clay turned his jacket inside out and made a small tear in the lining. There he found a miniature phone, very much similar to the one Angela had. He pulled it out and keyed in a five digit code.

The phone instantly connected. Clay listened to the instructions and once done, he did what all field agents were supposed to do with the phone.

He twisted off the back, removed the battery, wrapped the phone into a towel and placed it on the floor. With a quick stomp of his heel he smashed the fragile plastic casing to pieces.

Once he flushed away the evidence, Clay stepped out and was roughly escorted back into the luxury suite.

Ivanov was there, waiting. The man obviously got all the rest he needed because he didn't look even the slightest bit fatigued.

"So Clayton, have you thought about my offer?" Ivanov asked immediately after Clay sat back down at the dining table.

"What you're asking for is treason."

"No, what I'm asking for is keeping the world safe. And your family's legacy with it. All I need is a name. Who is the agent onboard the train?"

Clay was genuinely conflicted. According to Ivanov, Neville Webb had been the mastermind behind the Blood Line. There was no way his father had betrayed his countrymen.

"I still don't believe you, Ivanov. My father wasn't a traitor. He didn't hand American POWs to the Russians!" Clay barked.

"You still call him your father?"

Clay gritted his teeth. _Is that why his mother so rarely spoke of Neville? That what he assumed was due to her heartache of losing the love of her life, was instead actually due to her shame that she hadn't been faithful to him?_

Ivanov saw the conflict on Clay's face, "One name, my boy. One name and we can make the world safe again."

Clay's head dipped. Of all the things he hated about Ivanov right now, there was one thing he especially hated. He hated that Ivanov could be right.

"Maria Thomason." Clay finally said.

Ivanov smiled. "See, that wasn't so hard was it?"

Clay's head shot up to look at the former MI6 man. "You knew didn't you?"

"It's always nice to have confirmation."

"You bastard!"

"No, that would be you. Son." Ivanov said with a sadistic sneer.

oxoxoxo

Langer backed Harm into the cabin. Harm wanted to warn Angela but with the German's handgun pressed firmly into his stomach, it would have been suicide to try. Langer turned him around and marched him ahead of him.

Angie saw Harm enter into view with his hands held up and then saw he wasn't alone. She drew her gun instantly, but Langer used Harm's sizable frame to provide ample cover. "Don't be stupid, Maria. Your husband would have air holes in his back before you can squeeze a shot off."

She still had her gun drawn. "Langer, what do you want?"

"The same thing you were traveling with Lagunov for. The list, hand it over."

Angie caught the look in Harm's eye, he was brave enough to risk lying. His nerves of steel impressed her.

"If you can find where Lagunov hid it, then you can have it." Angie said.

"You don't have it?"

"No."

Langer's mouth narrowed into a thin line, before he regrouped. "No matter. As long as no one has it." He pushed Harm forward and took aim at Angie.

But Harm had other ideas. He surprised Langer with a hard elbow into the German's side, throwing off his shot. The silenced gunshot slammed into the mirror, breaking it as Angie fired off a couple of shots back.

Langer dove for cover but Harm slammed a fist against the man's jaw, delivering a glancing blow. Langer fell backwards onto the seats.

Angie slapped the light switch off, plunging the room into darkness as she fired another round at where she thought Langer was. Grabbing hold of Harm's hand she dragged him through the open cabin door and out into the corridor.

Gunshots chased them, splintering wood around them as they ran through the train. Angie saw Langer closing on them quickly and she fired off a shot to keep the German honest.

"We need to get off the train." Angie said as they reached the end of the car. Harm pushed open the door that lead into the next one. When a bullet caught Angie's calf, making her stumble. Harm caught her.

"Shit." Angie cursed, and fired back two wild shots to keep Langer at bay as Harm propped her up and helped her into the next car.

They chanced upon one of the train's engineers on his break. He rose from his seat the moment he saw them, angry at their intrusion. Harm tried to appease the man, but Angie floored the irate Russian with a hard blow to the solar plexus.

"Sorry." she said in Russian, before turning to Harm. "Go." she ordered and Harm obeyed.

Langer made his way towards the car and found the hunched over Russian engineer holding his side, swearing breathlessly. Langer asked the engineer if he'd seen where the fleeing Americans went.

The engineer pointed him in the right direction and Langer thanked him with a bullet through the skull.

Harm moved Angie through the various cars as quickly as possible. She cried in pain when she put her weight on her injured leg.

Suddenly Harm realized they had just gone through the caboose and they were now surrounded by nothing but a nighttime European countryside whooshing by at an incredible rate.

"Damn it!" Harm cussed. "What now? It's too fast to jump, and we're too slow to dodge a bullet."

For once the agent looked like she'd run out of ideas. "I've got one bullet left, Harm." she admitted, fighting back tears. "We're sitting ducks."

Harm stared back through the tiny window in the door. And saw Langer making his way towards them. "We'll just have to make it count."

Langer moved cautiously, making sure no nasty surprises awaited him. He made it to the door and peered out the window. No one. He whirled back to check the room once more and saw that no one was hiding in the caboose. He then reached for the door.

The German assassin stepped out, his gun ready for action. He then realized that there was a rung leading up to the roof. But it was too late.

Harm launched himself at Langer, knocking him hard against the caboose rail. They grappled for the gun, Harm trying to stop the German from using it.

"Angie!" Harm shouted for the CIA agent to use her gun. She took aim and fired.

The bullet whipped Langer's head back and the German went backwards over the rail, his deadweight almost dragging Harm off. Harm let go of the gun and the German fell off the train and disappeared into the dark night.

Harm sighed in relief before seeing Angie lose her grip on the ladder. He rushed to her and pulled her down.

"Did I get him?"

"If the bullet didn't, then falling off the train did." Harm said glibly. "Come on, let's get you a doctor."

oxoxoxo

Mac awoke with a start and looked around the room. She was in Harm's bed. She didn't know how or when, but she was sleeping on his sheets, under his covers. She brought her breathing under control and then she remembered.

She had lifted the bourbon to her nose. But it had to get past her mouth first...

Mac breathed on her hand to check her breath. Nothing, but that didn't mean she didn't take a drink. She rushed out of the bedroom to his kitchen.

Sitting there on the kitchen counter was the bottle of bourbon, still half full. And the glass, also still half full. Relief sunk in, she hadn't taken a drink.

But the fact that the temptation existed was impossible to deny. It was a sobering reminder that she almost slipped. That ten years of sobriety almost went out the door.

She needed help.

She berated herself, she was a Marine, she could solve her own problems, had done so in the past. She had spent the nine previous years easily staying sober, why was it so difficult now?

Because Uncle Matt couldn't be there for her anymore. He was locked up behind bars, and he won't be there to keep her from entering one.

Because she remembered all the ills of her childhood, how as far as she'd come as a Marine, she hadn't really gotten away from her past. That part of history would always be a part of her, no matter how hard or far she ran away from it.

Because she thought of Eddie for the first time in nine years. Because ever since she met Harm, she had been reminded of Eddie Vogelsong - the one man she let herself fall in love with... the one man who hurt her most by rejecting her love, and then killed a part of her the day he got himself killed.

Actually, she got him killed too. She didn't have to let him drive. If she wasn't hammered herself, she might have actually stopped him. And then maybe he'd be alive.

Of course, maybe she'd never have turned her life around if he hadn't given up his life that night. With his death, Sarah MacKenzie the girl also died and Mac the Marine was born.

She now realized that her continued involvement with Harm showed her the Marine part was only a facade - a front that the real her hid behind. The real her, Sarah MacKenzie the girl hadn't really died.

And she felt guilty for it because it meant Eddie died for nothing. It meant all she was for the past nine years, was a sham.

She needed Harm but he wasn't there and that was part of the problem. But the major part of the problem was, she needed Harm in the first place. Harm was no good for her, she realized. He was another crutch, another distraction... another addiction.

Another mistake.

Mac quickly left his apartment and locked it up. She was in her car when she realized she had kept his key. She should return it, drop it back into his mail slot or wherever he hid it.

Mac also realized she couldn't let go of it. This was like that sniff of alcohol. Soothing, calming, and a reminder of all the things that would go wrong if she continued down this road.

Harm was no good for her, she repeated to herself hoping that her heart would listen to what her brain knew from the start. That she needed space away from him. That she needed a life away from him. That she wasn't in love with him.

She needed him. And that had to stop.

* * *

Continued in **Next Chapter**

**AN:** Only one more chapter. I promise. And I promise to finish it ASAP.


	32. Ep 14: Bloodlines (Part 4)

**AN:** This is it! The final part of the final episode of JAG Retold Season 2. Will the show be cancelled due to bad ratings and reviews? Well, definitely not with your readership & reviews, you guys have been more than awesome.

I hope you guys will be as excited to follow me when I make the jump to Season 3.

Now on with the conclusion.

* * *

**Episode 14:  
Bloodlines (Part 4)**

1100 ZULU  
GARE DE L'EST / EAST STATION  
PARIS, FRANCE

The Trans-European Express pulled into the beautiful train station filled with high ceilings of glass and steel that let the warm cheery Parisian sunshine in. Passengers spilled from the train, all excited by being in the city as they streamed noisily towards immigration checkpoints.

Harm helped Angie down from the train, her calf bandaged crudely with the bullet still in it. They hadn't sought medical help - too much explanation was needed. Already gendarmes had delayed their disembarkation as they wanted to know why one of the train engineers had a bullet lodged in his brain. Explaining a bullet wound in her leg would have just made them prime suspects, especially since the original shooter had dropped out of sight... quite literally.

The fact that Helmut Langer was not in attendance was convincing enough for the French Police to start looking in his direction and that the others were free to leave.

"You okay?" he asked and she grunted her assent.

Putting his arm around her waist, he helped her walk and she was doing her best trying to walk normally as if nothing untoward had happened. She didn't need anyone in a uniform looking at her funny and asking a whole set of questions that would make it impossible to leave.

While her leg was damaged, her mind and her eyes were as sharp as ever and she noticed the men in dark suits that seem to dot the arrival hall.

"Harm, I think we have a welcoming party." she whispered. Harm looked around and after a few seconds notice the four or five trim men in dark suits approaching from all angles.

"What do we do? Fight or flight?"

"I don't think I'm doing much flying today." Angie said grimly as she tested her leg. It hurt worse now than it did before. She looked up at him, "You didn't manage to smuggle a couple of semi-automatics in your carry on did you?" she asked hopefully.

"No." Harm replied, feeling guilty that he hadn't even considered it.

"Oh well, then I guess our honeymoon's over." she said sadly and Harm understood. The game was up.

The thugs surrounded them and Angie and Harm didn't resist. There was no point. The thugs led them to a dark limousine and without a word motioned for them to get inside. They got in, knowing that their best chance of survival now was to bide their time and wait either for the cavalry to arrive, or an opportunity to escape.

If either ever came.

oxoxoxo

The statue of St. Jude, the patron saint of hopeless cases, stared down from his pedestal with kind benevolence. He stood in front of the church that bore his name, one which more often than not, played home to those who indeed needed his compassion in their darkest hour.

The hours just before dawn were indeed the darkest, and it was at this time when Mac got out of her jeep and crossed the street to the modest yet well maintained church. Mac wasn't a religious person - religion rarely made its presence known or felt in her home growing up, not with her mom praying for the beating to stop and her father not getting the message.

Did not believing in divinity make her a bad person? Perhaps, but it didn't change the fact that religion and prayer had done less for her than the kindness of strangers. And it was that exact kindness she needed right now.

She walked over to the bulletin board and saw the numerous announcements pinned there for births & marriages and her eyes bypassed those easily. She found what she was looking for hidden in the corner.

Alcoholics Anonymous  
It is not the falling down that's hard.  
It is the getting back up.  
And sometimes everyone needs a little more help,  
getting back up,  
and staying up.

Mac had never been to AA, had never needed it before. Uncle Matt had always been her rock... not that she had needed him to keep her on the wagon much in the past. Even in the times when she had let her emotions get the better of her and made mistakes in the past, she had never been tempted to start drinking again once.

Until tonight.

Mac hated the idea of AA. Maybe it helped others to talk about their problems but she didn't believe in talk. Action. Results. Those were the things that mattered, the only things that mattered. Those things were tangible, unlike feelings. Feelings were not why she became a Marine. Were not the reasons why she was screwed up. Were not important.

She memorized the meeting time anyway because it was the purpose of her visit. But as she turned to leave, something else caught her eye. She read the notice.

Big Sisters & Little Sisters Program

oxoxoxo

Harm and Angie were ushered into the hotel suite and were surprised to see a familiar face there.

"Harm. Maria." Clay greeted them and the use of his real name and her cover name was not lost on any of them.

"Clay? What are you doing here?" Harm asked.

An older gentleman spoke next with his rich Oxford accent, drawing their attention. "The boy was making arrangements for your arrival." Ivanov stood up from his seat and approached. "Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb Junior, I've heard much of you from Clayton here."

The Russian-born MI6 agent then turned his attention to the young and beautiful blonde beside Harm, "You though my dear, he was considerably less talkative. Either he knows nothing of you, or you're more important to him than the commander."

"Stop wasting our time, Ivanov. You have them. Get on with it." Clay said impatiently.

"Such impatience. I blame his mother." Ivanov said charmingly before turning to the matter at hand. "Lagunov's list if you please."

Harm saw Angie stare at Clay, as if in telepathic communication. "We don't have it."

Ivanov stared at Angie a little harder and longer. "That's a shame." he said as he motioned for one of his men to step forward.

Harm suddenly found himself down on his knees with a gun pressed to the back of his head. Ivanov asked Angie again. "Again, Lagunov's list if you please. Or perhaps I should be talking to the Commander here?"

At Angie's continued silence, Ivanov did just that. "Rabb was it? Now, you seem a smart fellow. Would be a shame for Leon to change all that, wouldn't it?" he smirked, referring to the gunman holding the pistol to Harm's head.

"So here's what I'm going to do," Ivanov continued, "I'll let you go. After all, you owe these people nothing and you're way in over your head on this one. All I want to know is if there's a list and if you have it. Two answers and you're flying back home tonight."

"How do I know you won't just pull the trigger anyway?"

"Ah, ever the lawyer, I see. So mistrusting. I guess the only assurance you'll get is my word."

Harm stared at the old man, his eyes burning bright with defiance. Ivanov sighed. "Oh well, I never liked this carpet much anyway." he said as he waved for the thug to pull the trigger.

"Wait!"

Clay's shout made Leon stay his hand. All eyes went to the man from State. "Ivanov, all I ask is that we walk out of here alive. Can you promise me that?"

The old man looked at him. "I am offering that, Clayton."

Clay nodded his understanding and walked up to his fellow CIA agent, "Angie, give it up."

Angie stiffened at the use of her real name and glared at her operations chief. "Clay." she hissed.

"Where is it?" Webb asked.

Harm growled, "What are you doing?" prompting Webb to fix him with an intense gaze.

"What's the point of protecting the list if we aren't going to be alive to find out what's on it, Harm?"

Harm ground his teeth, Clay had a point. But it didn't take away the sting of being so close to finding his father's whereabouts, and falling short.

Angie's head dipped similarly. Clay was right, the list was only useful to them if they were alive to use it. It reminded her of the old adage they had in the agency - _'There is no glory in death, only failure.'_ "It's hidden in one of my luggage tags."

Harm could only stare daggers at the CIA agents as Ivanov ordered his men to bring in their bags. Ripping off the tags from the luggage, Ivanov found the one Angie meant.

"You have the list, Ivanov. Let us go." Clay reminded the old agent of the deal.

"I suppose I should." Ivanov said.

"But you won't." Clay completed the thought.

"But I won't." Ivanov admitted as he flicked open an old zippo lighter to burn the tag. When all hell broke loose.

Several smoke grenades rolled into the room, spewing thick acrid billowing clouds and creating chaos. Smoke quickly filled the room obscuring everything from view before red aiming lasers cut through the fog, finding the thugs. In seconds a couple of the gunmen were felled by short bursts of gunfire.

Harm took advantage of the chaos and overpowered a distracted Leon, the large steak eating Russian thug who had him pinned down earlier. Harm looked over to the side and saw Angie easily judo flipped her own guard before her injured leg gave out. Harm was instantly beside her pulling her to the relative safety as gunfire, returned by the thugs, blindly ripped up the hotel suite all around them.

"You okay?" he asked trying to not inhale the smoke.

"Yeah." she choked out. "The list."

Harm looked all around through the thick smoke that was beginning to clear a little. Ivanov and the list was nowhere to be found.

oxoxoxo

Ivanov shot his way out of the hotel suite taking down a couple of the gendarmerie who were leading the raid. He made his way to the stairs when he was taken by surprise from behind. Ivanov fell heavily on some of the steps, dropping his gun, injuring his dominant arm and cracking a couple of ribs, knocking the wind from him. But he was still as dangerous as ever. He looked up at his assailant.

Clayton Webb.

Clay body tackled the old man once more, not letting the man's advanced age fool him into showing mercy. Ivanov groaned when blinding pain shot through his thin body as Clay slammed him hard against the wall. His body screamed to shut down but Ivanov ignored it to whack down hard on Clay's back, delivering a painful blow that floored the CIA man.

Ivanov tried to deliver a death blow but his body was too damaged to obey. Flight became the only option. He glared down at Clay's barely conscious form.

"Your mother deserved better than Neville. And so did you."

Ivanov limped down the stairs, pain shooting through his body with every movement.

oxoxoxo

Harm turned to Angie, "Stay here." he said getting to his feet as he went after the list. Only to be knocked back by a large fist. Harm staggered back and saw a very cheesed off Leon stepping before him with his fist raised.

Harm evaded the first two punches, Leon obviously knew how to throw a punch, they were controlled, tight to the body rarely leaving an opening for Harm to get a shot back. Harm just ducked out of the way of Leon's hard jab, the Russian's fist grazing the top of Harm's brow, opening a small gash.

Leon backed Harm into a corner, aiming a series of body blows that Harm blocked with his arms. The punches though were bruising, numbness began to set in and Harm couldn't throw a punch back even if he tried. The Russian closed in for the kill when two bullets buried themselves in his back. Leon turned around, defying gravity for a second to see his killer.

Angie had crawled to the gun dropped in the ensuing scuffle. She dropped the gun now, locking eyes with the Russian as he finally fell to the ground. Without a second glance she looked at Harm, "Whatcha waiting for. Go!"

The smoke had cleared when French police finally secured the hotel room. They quickly took stock of the damage - four of the five Russian thugs were dead, and an injured American woman was sitting on the floor, waiting for them to find her. There was no sight of Harm.

oxoxoxo

Harm rushed down the stairs to see Clay prone on the ground. He picked the CIA man up.

"He's hurt." Clay reported. "Go after him."

Harm left Clay propped on the stairs and ran down the stairs, taking several steps at a time. He saw one of the doors swing close and dove for it, catching it before it closed completely. Sure enough Ivanov was limping away, clutching undoubtedly a broken rib or two in his suddenly fragile 70-year old body. Harm pulled out the pistol he had picked up earlier.

Harm now saw that Ivanov was wheezing heavily and he was beginning to bleed through his shirt. A punctured lung. Harm dove for cover when the old man raised the gun and fired a shot, but it missed Harm by a wide margin. Ivanov tried again and again he missed.

He tried a third time and the gun clicked empty.

"It's over, Ivanov." Harm said as he dared to approach the old man once more.

And froze when he saw Ivanov hold a zippo lighter to the luggage tag.

"Ivanov, don't." Harm pleaded. The old man though was too far gone to care. The paper ignited.

Harm shot Ivanov's shoulder making the old man drop the burning pieces of paper. He rushed to put it out, stomping out the flame but it was too late - the paper burned easily and was soon nothing but ash.

Harm glared at all that remained of Lagunov's list, a dark char on the carpet. He turned angry eyes at the old MI6 agent, his gun ready to seek revenge.

"Do it, Commander. I'm already dying. It'll make you feel better."

It was tempting. So very tempting.

Harm had killed before - but that had been in times of war. Even in times of self defense. Killing an unarmed man, no matter the circumstances would turn him into something he wasn't.

A murderer.

But that didn't mean he couldn't have his revenge.

"You're right, you're dying. Slowly." Harm said and walked away, leaving Ivanov to spend his final moments in agony.

oxoxoxo

Harm stared blankly into space, his eyes not really focused on anything as the scrape above his eye was being tended to by one of the female paramedics. He was seated out in the hallway as all around them French police carted out body bags.

"This may hurt." the paramedic said quietly in English as she stitched up the gash. It did, but Harm barely reacted to the sting.

He then noticed Angie and Clay approach. A single nod from Angie made the paramedic move away, giving them privacy.

Clay spoke in his normal tone, as if the last few hours hadn't just happened. "There's a car waiting downstairs to take you to the airport. A private jet will take you back to Romania..."

Harm glared at the CIA man. "Just like that? Like nothing happened?"

"Nothing did happen, Harm. Ivanov's dead, we're not. Life continues."

"The list is gone, Clay! Destroyed!"

"That's disappointing." Clay said unemotionally.

Harm stood to his full 6'4" height and glared at Clay. "Disappointing?! My father could have been on the list and now we'll never know!"

"Could have been. You don't know if he was. For all we know he wasn't."

Harm saw red. "Is that why you could hand the list to Ivanov so easily?"

"If I didn't, he would have had you killed. I saved your life." Clay said a little annoyed.

"Then let me thank you."

Harm's fist smashed against Clay's face, flooring the CIA man. Harm raised his fist again but was stopped by the gendarmes on the scene. Angie explained to the cops the situation in rapid French. They loosened their hold on Harm who without another word walked away.

Clay held his nose, sure that it was broken though Angie's cursory inspection revealed that it wasn't. His face however was beginning to bruise.

"I think he broke my nose." Clay said blowing out some blood.

"Clay, about my divorce." Angie said making Clay turn to her in all seriousness. "Let's make it permanent."

"You're leaving the Company?" Clay asked in surprise.

"No, just you." Angie stood up. "I used to think I could trust you."

Clay felt Angie's glare. "You owe him that list."

"Ivanov destroyed it."

"Did he?" she asked, her voice as cold as an arctic winter.

Clay tried to hold Angie's gaze but he couldn't. It confirmed her suspicions. "It's been nice knowing you, Clay." and she walked away.

oxoxoxo

TWO DAYS LATER  
2200 ZULU  
BUCHAREST, ROMANIA

Harm stared out the window of his cheap hotel room, still wide awake despite the late local hour. He stared out the window, glad that at least he was one of the lucky ones to actually have a view of the outside.

He stared at the night cityscape. In the distance, the palace was brilliantly lit, and it was even more beautiful backdropped by the moon that shone down through heavy clouds - creating a dramatic sky.

Harm needed to talk to someone. No, talk wasn't what he needed. He needed someone to take his mind off his father, to ease his pain. He needed a drink.

But he also needed perspective more than just solace. He reached for the phone. There were many numbers he could have called. He could have called his mom. That might have been the best option... but it wasn't something he could face right now. Talking to his mom about his dad was what almost destroyed their relationship before. He was in pain, and he couldn't drag her back into that world.

He could have called Dr. Sandra Chang, his therapist at Bethesda. But he couldn't tell her all the aspects of the mission - he would have to censor himself and keep all the classified parts out. If the CIA knew he blabbed to his therapist, it was a sure way to make sure that they'd bug her office and make sure whatever he said to her would be in a CIA file. Hell, maybe they already had her phones bugged, so he wasn't going to call her.

There was one other person, the first person he actually thought of to call. He picked up the receiver and dialed the number without needing to look it up. He knew her number by heart, even down to the area code.

It rang. And rang. And rang.

oxoxoxo

Mac in her Service C's (khaki service uniform) sat on one of the office chairs in the tiny basement office. Mac had her garrison cap on her lap that she tried not to worry as she sat in front of a matronly woman in her early 40s - she wasn't intimidated but this was still an important meeting.

The matronly woman's desk nameplate identified her as 'Jessica Meneque, program director.'

"Well, Major, you've seen what we try to do here, so I have just one question really. Why do you want to be a big sister?" Jessica asked the pretty Marine.

Mac had a lawyer's speech prepared, had worked on it as intensively as she would any closing argument, but now faced with the question, she knew all the logical arguments in the world didn't matter. She looked down at her hands and spoke softly.

"I didn't have an easy childhood. In fact, if not for the Marine Corps, and some people who really cared about me, I probably wouldn't be alive today."

Jessica tried not to let her surprise show but it didn't mean she wasn't shocked just the same. This beautiful, successful, confident woman in front of her was once troubled?

Mac continued, "I don't know if I can help anyone, but I do know that when I was a kid, all I needed was to know someone cared about me, someone who'd listen without judgment or dismiss what I was feeling as unimportant. Someone who believed in me. Maybe even someone who loved me regardless of what I did or where I was."

Tears formed at the corners of her eyes and Mac blinked them away rapidly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tear up."

The older woman gave her a compassionate smile. "It's okay, Miss MacKenzie, I understand completely. And you're right, when we were that age, all we really needed was to know someone loved us."

Jessica's usage of her civilian title wasn't lost on Mac. It meant that Jessica was seeing the woman behind the uniform, and that was in many ways a good thing. As was her use of the collective term 'we'.

The program director of the Big Sister program shuffled a few files on her desk and one of them popped up - Chloe Madison. "It's not going to be easy getting through to some of the girls in the program. They aren't going to magically accept you just because you accept them." Jessica warned.

"I know."

"It's gonna be hard work." Jessica said.

"I know."

Jessica looked up at Mac and warned her. "And if you quit on us once, we're never gonna let you back in."

Mac nodded, understanding the responsibility she was taking. "I know. And I'm not a quitter, Miss Meneque."

Jessica smiled. "I know. Welcome aboard Major." She offered Mac a handshake to seal the deal. Mac returned the smile and handshake.

oxoxoxo

Mac's machine answered again "Hi, I'm sorry I can't come to the phone right now..."

Harm hung up the phone again and worried his face before coming to a decision. He quickly pulled on his uniform and grabbed his hotel key.

Maybe he should have that drink.

oxoxoxo

0030 ZULU  
BUCHAREST, ROMANIA

The bar was deserted, chairs were up on the tables as one of the bar staff mopped the floor. A lone US Navy Lieutenant Commander sat at the bar, the only one there still drinking.

Harm polished off another shot of whatever the locals called a drink - happy that it lived up to its billing as the strongest thing they had. He had the bottle in front of him, most of it gone, most of it already in him.

The door chimed and a woman in a dark overcoat entered. She approached him directly and whispered into his ear.

"Hey, sailor. Kinda late to be out on a school night, right?"

Harm turned around, his face an unreadable mask until he saw her. His expression turned into complete wonderment as he stood up.

"You came." he said before leaning in and kissing her with everything he had. His hand ran through her short brunette hair, pulling her deeper into the kiss while his other hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her right against his body.

He pinned her against the bar, kissing her deeply and slowly, savoring each taste that she allowed him. She felt his arousal press against her stomach, and she yearned for this as much as he did.

Finally they surfaced for air and he stared at her with the wealth of emotion he felt for her. His thumb ran over her kiss swollen bottom lip. Her face was as beautiful as he remembered it since he last saw her in what seemed an eternity ago.

"God I missed you, Mac."

Caitlin Pike looked up into his glazed over eyes and felt her world shatter. He was drunk, logically she knew why he made the mistake. But it didn't mean it didn't rip her heart out just the same. Here he stood kissing her like she was the only woman in the world and he was thinking of someone else.

She knew she was better than this, deserved more, but this was the only way she could have him. If he could pretend she was someone else, so could she. She mustered a smile, painful as it was. "I missed you too, Harm."

She didn't stop him as his lips descended on hers again, but neither did she stop the tear that rolled down her face.

oxoxoxo

0300 ZULU  
CIA HEADQUARTERS  
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

A bruised and battered Clayton Webb stood in front of the Director of Central Intelligence - Wyatt Garrison. The man from State handed the CIA big cheese a luggage tag with the name 'Mark Thomason'.

"Lagunov's list?" Garrison asked as he turned the tag around in his hand.

"Angie switched the tag. She knows Ivanov didn't destroy it."

"But everyone believes that the list is destroyed, right? Especially the Russians?"

"Yes. The French were good enough to leave one of them alive. Once they deport him back to Russia, the FSB will get it out of him."

Garrison nodded as he put the tag into an envelope from his desk and sealed it. Then he poured two scotches and handed one to Clay. Clay took it as he joined his bosses' boss for a drink.

"You were right about Rabb." Garrison said as he enjoyed the strong taste of quality scotch. "He does get results."

"He does, but I might have burnt that bridge." Clay said with uncharacteristic remorse.

"Well, I'm sure you'll find a way back into his good graces. You are your father's son after all." Garrison said with a dismissive air.

"About that." Clay began but hesitated. He looked at his superior before pressing on. "Is it true? Is the Blood Line my father's idea?" Clay finally asked, looking the DCI right in the eye.

"Yes." Garrison replied.

Clay gulped. "So Ivanov was right? He sold American POWs to the Russians."

"There's more to it than that." Garrison looked into his half empty glass and took another sip.

"What?" Clay asked. Garrison though remained quiet.

"Damn it Garrison." Clay forgot his position for a second and confronted the older man. "Is my father a traitor?"

"Your father was a hero. But the world would never know."

"What really happened?" Clay asked.

"You should ask your mother."

"I'm asking you."

"And I don't owe you an answer." Garrison said as he walked back to his desk, in a way dismissing Clay from his presence.

oxoxoxo

A WEEK LATER  
1320 ZULU  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

"The Admiral says to go right in, ma'am." the JAG's yeoman Petty Officer 2nd Class Jason Tiner said to Mac as she approached.

"Thanks, Tiner." Mac said before throwing open the door and walking in. She snapped to attention before she realized that her CO, Admiral A.J. Chegwidden wasn't alone in his office.

She was surprised by his presence in one of the chairs. "Harm." she gasped out.

"Mac." he said with a tight smile and a nod of his head.

"When did you get back?"

"This morning."

"Are..."

"Ahem." the Admiral interrupted their exchange with a clearing of his throat. "I'm sure the both of you can find the time to catch up later."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry sir." Mac said embarrassedly and took her seat.

Throughout the meeting, Harm kept his eyes front and center not daring to look at Mac. He had vague recollections of kissing her senseless in a bar in Romania, but it had to have been a dream. As was waking up with his arms wrapped around her in the middle of the night.

But most of all he needed to put aside all his emotions and just concentrate on work. Just get through the day. And in his spare time, he needed to spend less time with Mac and more time working on why he joined JAG in the first place.

To gain access to records and information on his father's whereabouts.

He looked down at the MIA tag on his wrist and couldn't help but think about how close he had been to having a large piece of the puzzle solved. Only for it to be taken from him at the last.

As they left the Admiral's office, Mac turned to her partner.

"How was Romania?" Mac ventured to ask, hoping the subject was safe enough to broach.

"Hmm? Romania?" Harm asked, confused before he remembered his original purpose being in Europe. "Oh, Romania. Right."

"Did they finally agree on a location for the base?" Mac asked, ignoring his scatterbrain.

"No." Harm said with a weak grin. "At this rate, I don't think they ever will."

She noticed how forced and stilted their conversation was. It was like both of them were afraid to speak, afraid that they might reveal something they didn't want the other to know. In Mac's case she knew that was true. She didn't need him to know about her attraction to him, and how she was confusing his friendship for something more.

But it didn't explain how withdrawn Harm was. She wanted to ask about it, but she stopped herself. If Harm needed to talk, he knew where to find her. She wasn't about to pursue him like a schoolgirl with a crush.

That didn't mean though she didn't find her gaze constantly keeping track of his movements. He was a hard habit to kick.

"Well, I'll catch you later." she said as she entered her office.

"Yeah, sure." Harm said without much enthusiasm.

Harm entered his office and couldn't help but feel a little bit disconcerted. It felt familiar yet it seemed so foreign at the same time. It was like a suit that no longer fit, and he had to wonder if perhaps now that he remembered his purpose being at JAG and that the answers to his questions lay out in the world instead of in here, this no longer felt like his place in the world. It had happened to him once before when he turned 16. Perhaps it was happening again.

His eyes went straight to the picture he kept on top of his filing cabinet. He went to it and picked up the frame which housed the black and white picture of him in the cockpit of his father's F4 Phantom II, with his father looking down proudly at him. Harm picked it up and stared at it long and hard.

"I'll find you, dad." he said with grim determination. "Even if it's the last thing I do."

* * *

**END OF SEASON 2**

* * *

**AN: **Harm & Mac's adventures continue in Season 3, where more of their past catches up to them and Harm's search for his father intensifies.

I do hope to read any feedback you have, as there is a good chance your views will help me shape how I write the episodes of Season 3, which I hope to start on as soon as I can.

I am aware that many of us are wishing Harm & Mac would just fall into bed already, but I am in essence going to write 200+ fics / episodes of Harm & Mac falling in love. Well, maybe not 200+ episodes of falling in love... because Harm & Mac get together before that so it'll be quite a number of episode of Harm & Mac already in love.

Thank you for reading and reviewing all the episodes of Season 2. Know that as much as I like doing this, I like doing this with the knowledge that you guys are on this journey with me even more. All I ask for is a little bit of patience... maybe a lot of patience and I will try to make this journey worthwhile. :)

Thank you, and I hope to see you for Season 3. :)

**Next Chapter:** Complete Season 2 Episode List


	33. JAG - Retold (Season 2) Episode List

**JAG - Retold (Season 2) Episode List:**

Yeah, this isn't a new episode. It is more a directory listing / indexing of the stories (with episode names & synopses) to help in case you are looking to read back an old story and don't want to root through 32 chapters individually to do it. Let's just call it a JAG - Retold wiki :D

Here is a brief recap and full episode list (including those I didn't rewrite because I didn't need to) of JAG - Retold (Season 2) - in the order they would appear in the Retold Universe.

* * *

Ep 2x01 - We The People  
**Synopsis:** After receiving the Distinguished Flying Cross at a White House ceremony, Harm is introduced to his new partner, Major Sarah "Mac" MacKenzie, who is the spitting image of his recently murdered girlfriend. Harm & Mac investigate Marine Colonel and Medal of Honor recipient Matthew O'Hara (who turns out to be Mac's uncle) for stealing the Declaration of Independence. This episode contains the first appearance of CIA agent Clayton Webb.

Ep 2x02 - Jinx  
**Synopsis:** Harm struggles with maintaining an objective view when he has to investigate a 'jinxed' squadron - one that has already having claimed the life of his Naval Academy friend.

Ep 2x03 - Heroes  
**Synopsis:** Harm and Mac engage in a tense courtroom battle when a Navy SEAL is accused of murdering his friend during a mission, and Harm goes way overboard to prove a point about firearms, firing a machine gun in the court room. As a result he has to see a therapist at the order of the Admiral.

Ep 2x04 - Crossing The Line  
**Synopsis:** Harm and Mac face political pressure when a female pilot accuses Captain Boone of sexual harassment. The CAG says she's simply a bad aviator, and a prominent Congresswoman intervenes in the investigation. Mac begins to realize she may have an unhealthy attraction to Harm. First appearance of Lieutenant Elizabeth "Skates" Hawkes.

Ep 2x05 - People v. O'Hara (original episode)  
**Synopsis:** The trial of Mac's uncle - Marine Colonel Matthew O'Hara starts with the eyes of an entire nation on the proceedings. However as Harm & Mac fight to clear his name, they discover the trial may bring up evidence of the Colonel's past crimes.

Ep 2x06 - Trinity  
**Synopsis:** The infant son of a female U.S. Navy officer (daughter of SACEUR) is kidnapped from a base in Scotland and the evidence implicates the boy's father, an Irish Republican Army leader known as 'The Ghost'. Harm and Mac are assigned to help the Royal Ulster Constabulary in Belfast get the child back, but the local cop is hiding a vengeful secret.

Ep 2x07 - Ghosts  
**Synopsis:** Admiral Chegwidden's life is in danger when a ghost from his past resurfaces, seeking to avenge a kill the Admiral committed 25 years earlier. Meanwhile Harm's friend Jack Keeter visits to cheer him up but instead makes Harm feel guilty about the decisions that now haunt him.

Ep 2x08 - Full Engagement  
**Synopsis:** When Harm's Stearman biplane is forced to land in the Appalachian Mountains, he and Mac must avoid poachers who killed a game warden and do not want to leave any witnesses.

Ep 2x09 - Identities (original episode)  
**Synopsis:** As Mac recovers from her injuries (sustained in Full Engagement) Harm picks up an unexpected admirer, one who views Mac as a threat to winning Harm's affections. Meanwhile Harm and an old ally must team up to save Bud Roberts' career.

Ep 2x10 - Washington Holiday  
**Synopsis:** Harm is assigned to escort a Romanian Princess while her father the King is in D.C. to request Romania be admitted to NATO, as an assassin closes in on all of them. Ensign Harriet Sims is reassigned from the USS Seahawk.

Ep 2x11 - The Guardian _(not rewritten)  
**Synopsis:** Harm and Mac defend a homeless former Navy SEAL who is accused of killing three men while thwarting a convenience store robbery._

Ep 2x12 - Force Recon  
**Synopsis: **Harm goes undercover as a Gunny for a Marine Force Recon Squad at Camp Pendleton, while Mac and Bud investigate whether their Captain is using unsafe techniques as a means of hardening his men for unexpected combat conditions.

Ep 2x13 - Game Of Go _(not rewritten)  
**Synopsis: **Harm and a Colombian drug lord play a high-stakes game of "Go", with the prize being a Marine that was left behind during a covert mission, as Webb and the JAG team once again butt heads._

Ep 2x14 - Code Blue  
**Synopsis:** When Hamas terrorists take over the hospital where an Israeli diplomat is undergoing a heart transplant, an injured Harm and a captive Mac must find a way to individually thwart the hostage takers. This episode shows Mac speaking fluent Farsi.

Ep 2x15 - Rendezvous  
**Synopsis:** Mac's past clouds her judgment while she defends an abusive Chief Petty Officer accused of killing his wife's lover. Harm comes to accept that it may be time to let go of one of his past obsessions.

Ep 2x16 - Bloodlines (original episode)  
**Synopsis:** While attending NATO negotiations with the Romanian King, Harm is roped in by Clayton Webb to salvage one of his operations. It is a mission that leads to surprising revelations about the fate of Harm's father and Clay's heritage. Meanwhile Mac has to deal with her own struggles with her past after the events in Rendezvous. First appearance of Dalton Lowne.

oxoxoxo

And for you Harm & Mac shippers.

**Shipper Watch**

Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr. meets Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie who looks exactly like his recently killed Academy girlfriend - Diane Schonke. (We The People)

Harm struggles with Mac's physical resemblance to Diane, but can't deny his attraction. However he also knows that his attraction to Mac is purely physical at this point. (Jinx & Crossing The Line)

Harm and Mac start to appreciate each other's skills and abilities as lawyers and colleagues and learn more about what drives each other, but can they be friends? (Heroes)

Harm earns Mac's respect and trust when he does whatever it takes to defend her uncle in court. (People v. O'Hara)

Mac finds herself drawn to Harm and cannot understand why she is. She is very aware that her reaction may be just a strong physical attraction to him. (Trinity & Ghosts)

As Harm and Mac share more about their pasts with each other, they gain new found respect and perspective about each another. (Full Engagement & Rendezvous)

Mac realizes why she is so magnetically drawn towards Harm, and the answer lies in her past. (Rendezvous & Bloodlines)

Harm's decision to let go of his past and move on with his life is challenged when he discovers new evidence of his father's whereabouts. (Rendezvous & Bloodlines)

Mac tries to prevent her heart from being hurt again by choosing to limit how much of her life involves Harm. (Bloodlines)

* * *

**AN:** Thank you for enjoying Season 2.


End file.
